the other day
seated in his office
I asked my stubborn, mean-looking
bushy-eyebrows editor
if he’d consider two books:
“Short Stories for Real Short People”
and “Truly Tall Tales for Tall People”

and he sat back with that air
(actually, made you think he wanted to release air)
and he said:
“You’ll get shot for titles like that…
'Short Stories for Real Short People'
will directly offend people
who are vertically challenged
And the same people would shoot you
for excluding them by implication
in the epithet 'Tall' –
They’ll sure shoot you for that…
They’re both just politically incorrect”

And I leaned forward
(releasing air myself –
anything he can do, I can do better!)
and I said:
“Sure, it’s not politically correct – but it sure
ain’t psychologically correct, given our times,
to speak of shooting while we are in an office”

I hear the Editor no longer works there
and is now in some publishing house
who are specialists  in books on Accounting
and Engineering
where he knows, for sure, I’m never likely to go

I don't know your favorite tea.
I'm not sure how you get up when you're knocked down.
But I love the places you take me;
the shivers on my spine when you're around.

You've never told me your favorite color
or the things that break your heart.
I'm praying to God there's not another,
the thought of being without you is tearing me apart.

I don't know a thing about you,
but I'm already falling for you.
I don't know anything about you,
but I know I've gotta have you.

*~ m.w. ~

"Why did you paint your walls white?"

"Because its my future, a fresh start, a second chance."

Nevermind the obvious quirks in my physique—
the thick thighs,
short legs,
t-rex arms,
and that ample, curvaceous figure of mine
which I own and work every day.

[Listen,
I'm certain I could get into the glitter—
no doubt I would have a killer stage name—
I figure I’d get pretty used to the instant gratification—
and there's no doubt in my mind
that whatever I lack in grace and *** appeal,
I could make up for in
charm, wit,
and a cuteness that I'm still growing into.]

But see, I have a slight fear of wearing heels.
It's safer for everyone if I stick close to the ground.
And although swinging around a pole
seems like a good time,
my motion sickness would probably kick in
and I'd ralph hard
on at least one of my investors.

Aside from the faulty mechanics I'd bring to the profession,
I've got my own rationale.

I like knowing
that when my clothes come off,
it's for reasons larger than money.
I like knowing
that I've left a little to the imagination
and can unleash it at my leisure.
I like knowing
that my secret weapons of mass seduction
are, in fact, secrets.
I like knowing
that I still have something to blush about
when I think about how I spent my Saturday night.

Nah,
I could never be a stripper,
but hot ****,
do I enjoy perfecting the art
of smiling while naked.

I opened my eyes
And looked up at the rain,
And it dripped in my head
And flowed into my brain,
And all that I hear as I lie in my bed
Is the slishity-slosh of the rain in my head.

I step very softly,
I walk very slow,
I can't do a handstand--
I might overflow,
So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said--
I'm just not the same since there's rain in my head.

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

"You don't have to be okay, or perfect, you just have to get through the minute, hour, night..."* That's what DT said to me earlier when I called him. "Nita, you don't have to feel 'ok' you just have to get through the night."

But...DT, what about tomorrow? And the next night...and the night after that. I'm so tired of watching the clock and just "getting through the next minute".

"Nita, you know it comes in 'waves'...how you're feeling now. There are times when you will be better, and times when you are worse. You know that."

Yes, but what happens when I drown in the next wave, or the wave after that one?
DT was able to calm me down. I was full of fear, fear of the time each night when "logical" Nita disappears and the irrational angry and sad ones take control, put on the red boots and walk all over DT and me! And Nita had one boot on already earlier when she called DT.

"I don't want to die, DT, I don't want to die..." That's what I kept saying to him, on the phone... and I don't, I don't want to die...but I'm so scared that I'm going to die because the pain becomes so overwhelming that I will do anything to make it end. DT told me what to do, step by step, he told me: ”Nita, I want you to go and brush your teeth, take your medication and tuck yourself into bed. Then tomorrow morning, you will get up, shower, get dressed...and get to school. And then you will call my office at 3:30 and we will continue to talk."

But now, the headache that I have been battling all week has now pulled out the new arsenal which is immune to all medication. The lack of sleep has made my eyelids as heavy as bricks, my mind cloudy and my body weary. I am unable to focus. The nausea which subsided for a day is now back with a vengeance. I have thrown up multiple times tonight – and I although I continue to brush my teeth, I would pay the asking ransom for some stronger mouthwash and perhaps some diet sprite.

Although the nightmares abated for a few days, they have returned from the game of hide and seek – l am now hiding and they are now seeking. The ever present feelings of discontent will no longer allow me a moment of peace. This journey to “inner peace” seems to be an impossibility right now.

There is no party at the end of the rainbow – where my heart will sing and my soul will dance with joy. Instead, all I find is the hurt – and sometimes it is so painful, I want to cut out my own heart to keep from feeling it. I am an emotional baby in an adult body and I don’t know how to grow up. I am overwhelmed; there are not enough words in the dictionary to express how it is that I truly feel. Yes, there are times when I want to end it all, but really, I don’t want to die, I want to live, but I want to "live" and not just "survive" the day.

come close




                                                                  lay next to me


I need to feel





                                                                     important


So, stay close






                                                                     remain next to me







                                                                                                                              I need to feel




    important.



                                                      Holding all





                                                                                                  the weight in my life



then you turn and you walk away from me