nobody knows them all, maybe some here/there, scattered pebbles, strung together in a too tight choker, as if two hands grasping yourย ย gasping neck, as if you needed a reminder of your own hands in slow mo, cutting off of the oxygen supply, to merest trickle, the insufficient be well
hell no one knows the precision past,ย ย decision nature of thine owned Sisyphus boulder, the one you alone shoulder
so you grin~grimace inside, when they sincere, but casually bell, un-beknowning, un-thinking wishing you one mo' time, an extra seasonal
be well ~ ah, well intentioned, but you're getting older, tireder from the loader, each time it's tossed your way, falling to the pitted bowls bottom all these be well wishes
it's like a glass of water trying to fill a well mostly dry, quench a bonfire of exhaustion, that only grows stronger, feeding on its own inexhaustible supply of good wishes innocently poisoning