What’s wrong with me? I’ve been asking myself this all week.
Anyone who knows me will tell you that I weigh questions coldly and logically. Then it hit to me.. it’s summer, silly, and I'm in classes!

A typical summer would find me tanned, sunburned, greased and unkempt, like a happy, sandy, beach hobo, my hair would be either braided or left fly-about to tangle into cotton candy wads.

My bf Peter’s learned to like fine restaurants (You’re welcome). I’d have never left the beach on my own.
“They can bring us anything,” I’d argue, looking up pitiably from my shaded, Tropitone lounge chair.

Around sundown, Peter would have to catch me, slippery oiled and brown, to comb me out and scrub me before dinner.
“Get dressed!” he’d encourage, picking out a dress suitable for dining or casino wear - “I made us a reservation.”

I’d come out of the en-suite in my fluffy, Versace, terry towel but invariably, before I was even dry,  Peter would shake his head, growl and say, “Com-mere,” holding his arms out a little, palms up
(he’s never been very verbose), and smirking a little, I would, because his expression reminded me of Christmas.
“What about our reservation?” I’d chuckle.

This was, of course, a volunteer situation, where it was up to us all to do our best.
.
.
Songs for thus:
Girls On the Beach by Carter Cathcart
Wouldn't It Be Nice by Papa Doo Run Run
Please Let Me Wonder by Carter Cathcart

I lost my life when the giant wave
came crashing. I was deep in the sea,
swimming against the current,
trying so hard to break free.
I think that day I broke free.

I still recall this moment, when the water
filled my young body with its warmth.
And then they found it on the shoreline,
cold and stiff. I still see it all.
It was long time ago, but I still see it all.

And they took the white body with them, like sea shell collector
takes home the little conches he'd found in the sand.
And they kept the memory of it for so long,
till they themselves became the memories when they died.
And they kept me tight in the pocket of death, till they died.

This I ask thee, oh eyes of tears.
Since when did you weep so?

The rumbling of the abyss whose dark did wake,
The mumbling forest folks whose skin did rot,
For the curse of the ancient god whose dread did wake,
The rumbling of the abyss.

The cries of that child beloved by lies,
The fears of that girl ecstatic and fake,
And that boy who could not help but weep,
For the child’s crying.

For where else did their falsehood lie,
Where else does their aspirations die,
Except in the rites and sights,
Where their falsehood has sighed?

This I ask thee, oh my eyes,
Since when did you weep so?

Cover your mouth and eyes and ears
As herald's hark bares blighted revelation —
Swell in ignorance as everything disappears

Into hazed spiderweb, strung in hate and fears
Swept in phosphate — threaded by persuasion
That covers your mouth and eyes and ears

As the blood-red diamond thread rears
F35 fighter jets and AI-****** recognition.
Swell in ignorance as everything disappears

Under the tutelage of ministers' affairs;
Brushing noses — profiteered annihilation
Of others' mouths and eyes and ears;

Still silent oil blots Polaris' shine, like tears
Pooling screens flashing nation's damnation.
Swell in ignorance as everything disappears.

Droves dead under rubble; law fails to adhere
For those that sanction genocide's continuation
And cover their mouth and eyes and ears.
Swell in ignorance as everything disappears.

I’ve got plenty of ink, it’s my paper that’s shot
I can only write a few words, that’s all I got
Quick to write, slow to understand
I’ve got a fast mind and a slow hand

I had to scratch out some lines
I was trying to find some rhymes
But now it’s over, I think I’m done
Looks like I penned another one

The house stands, white and vacant, a mausoleum in the middle of nowhere. I’m a child again, lost in the dead grass, where no one’s ever really lived.
A crow watches—too **** close—and I can feel it, that cold, relentless weight on my chest. The swings creak, a broken lullaby. Names whispered in the wind, not mine, but they tear through the air like a chain.
I half-return, half-flee, caught in the dark breath of a place that hasn’t let go. The lawn’s dead, the house is dead, and I—am I still breathing?

I always tried to do things best
And try not to follow all the rest
All the dreams that I have thirst
Always seem to go and burst
When I search for my true love
There's always a black cloud above
When I see her come and pass
I will look to see that great ***
As I wonder if her personality fits
Those great and perky beautiful ****
Oh how this black cloud brings the worst of luck, all I can say is what the ****.