Locked horns

You seem to want to be a doctor
for my imaginary illness
imagination all yours
and I retreat into stillness

I seem to want to be no patient
for your contemporary inkling
refutation all mine
but I can feel my heart is sinking

     seems we locked horns
     on a path full of thorns
     cross-eyed in the night
     running the red light
     seems we locked horns
     on a path full of thorns

it seems to me you are too strong and
I lose imaginary battles
medication all yours
but it feels wrong and I get rattled

we seem to want quite different things so
all our contemporary clashing
implementation all ours
may well go nowhere and we're crashing

       refr.

1990.