Hanging Symptoms

My therapist says I need to practice patience this week;
so, I fixate for longer in the mirror, as im turning a traffic circle
a fawn steps onto fresh concrete, small and skittish.
A painting of a clown jury hangs above a toilet in the restaurant 
we have dinner at every week to see Momom, they shame a single clown as he cries
I finish pissing.
Survival is like this also, continuing to live in spite of an accident.
Where do we go from here? I habitually find myself restarting every six months,
being too much of the same person for too long scares me and years from now
it will do the same to you.
Standing here, we fail to notice most things don't change unless we make them.
There are times I wish I could touch everything for the first time again,
I sometimes bleed on fresh snow, like an open wound 
or walk into a room as empty as my mouth;
this is one way of knowing the earth, and this is enough.
Whatever we were, we certainly aren't now, and we must be fine with that.
It's been proven that we all skim through this, and somehow magnetize
at the near end to one another,
poised in an endlessly dark realm,
fading into you.