The Shrink's Hands
by James Edward Smith
An upwards faculty,
The sky clearly shows
his peaceful body looking
down on admired lives,
Stares lack tragic-bonnet pose,
He's eternally still,
Eyes facing the Irony roads.
An upwards faculty,
The sky clearly shows
his peaceful body looking
down on admired lives,
Stares lack tragic-bonnet pose,
He's eternally still,
Eyes facing the Irony roads.
The psychiatrist splayed his fingers wide across the table, clasping his fingertips deep into the carved initials of his name. He drew his digits back one by one, seeing a look of immense envy spread across his patients face. He was literally salivating at the mouth. " Now you see why it is vital that you obtain an Education," said the psychiatrist, hands now resting firmly on his thighs. The patient acknowledged this, ashamed of the fact that he never had and most likely never would accomplish anything quite up to the standard of what the good doctor had achieved.
His eyes began to well up with tears. The doctor sighed and produced a tissue from the breast pocket of his school blazer. It did seem notably odd for any man, let alone one who held himself in such high esteem, to be wearing items of their secondary school uniform during these later stages of life and when asked just why he dressed that way, he would simply smile and say: "My friend, do not let yourself be concerned with the appearances of others; Judging people purely on the way in which they present themselves is unequivocally petty and small minded and shouldn't be done under any number of situations or circumstances that might require some form of complete and thorough analysis." The psychiatrist would then muster an even more suitably smug grin and offer the patient or casual observer his support in correcting this minor 'defect'. Most would politely decline his proposition, whilst others would fake a healthy interest in partaking in such sessions, letting the shrink keep his broad, toothy smirk as well as the high self-regard for which he was renowned.
The patient dabbed delicately at his tear swollen face. " You know it isn't that simple, Goddamn it. You of all people should know the complexities involved for people like me." The doctor knew all too well. Not only was the kid inferior both wilfully and intellectually, he also lacked one of the key components which proved an absolute necessity in getting an Education: innocence. Purity, it seemed, did reward its loyal enforcers. For those who wanted the Education, (and there weren't many who didn't) this would present itself as quite a challenge to overcome.
To corroborate that every single thing that you had ever done in your entire life was done with the best intentions of other people in mind was not an easy task. The doctor, who had lived for many a century, had also noted a steady decline in the state of virtue of the average person as the millennium progressed, a noxious grey cloud of malice and contempt spreading over us all, inspiring our petty minds to work it's animosity. Despite all of this, the shrink learned to remain lenient with his fellow mankind, resisting the urge to express his inner apathy whenever possible. In doing this he was able to establish just a little bit more as to what provoked this awkward mentality in certain people, although when asked just exactly what this was he would often supply one of the many usual "brush-off" lines that psychiatrists would use when asked their diagnosis of a patient, his favorite being "Pent-up sexual frustration," not exactly original, but guaranteed to bring a sullen frown to the face of the inquirer.
The doctor brought his sizeable hands up to the surface of the desk once more. For sheer size alone they were quite phenomenal; hands that could reach out and grab the stars. The Education had given him this trait. Needless to say, he was not disappointed. Men scowled with guileless invidiousness; women gasped in awe of their invigorating grandeur. The psychiatrist's ego had began to grow with alarming celerity, matching even that of his own hands. Society soon became nonchalant about the size of the shrink's hands, however, and the psychiatrist fell back into his usual routine of modesty and demure. Reflecting on this period now, he felt rather glad that people had reacted in such a manner; whilst his hands were still indisputably large, his head was now thankfully not.
The patient's eyes came to settle on the large, antique Grandfather's clock at the far side of the room. The pendulum swung back and forth, performing it's one specific function with precision and accuracy, displaying its admirable simplicity with a manner so elegant yet so frequently overlooked.
"Beautiful isn't it?"
The Psychiatrist gave a puzzled look. "What?"
"The pendulum," the patient pointed.
"Yes," replied the doctor, "Simplicity is a beautiful state ."