Dave Bonta's short poem is about the relief of getting away from your own overthinking. The speaker admits that their thinking has been "sick and sorry" all day, as if the mind were an unwell thing that keeps apologizing for itself. Only at night does it clear, and the poem doesn't say exactly how.
The second stanza turns into a quiet request. "Tell me my name" suggests the speaker wants to be grounded, reminded of who they are in the simplest way. Yet the next line asks to be "put out of mind," which seems to mean being let go of, forgotten, even by oneself. The two wishes pull against each other: to be named and to disappear. The title, "Cure for neuroses," hints that this might be the remedy, a stripped-down identity without the constant mental chatter.
The mood is tired, gentle, and a little vulnerable. The short lines and plain words feel like someone exhaling at the end of a long day.