Fine,
I'm fine,
everything is fine.

Even though my world begins to crumble and fall
and even though my heart shatters and breaks...
All while my whole being becomes smaller-

I am fine,
I'm perfectly fine.

Even though my once flickering flame has dimmed
and even though my heart slowly begins to stop...
All while my whole being begins the fatal decline-

I promise I am fine.

Even though my flowers have died
and my heart has finally stopped beating...
I promise I am not lying

when I tell you I am

*******

fine.


And even as I dangle my legs over the edge,
and even as the pills rattle in their bottle...
As I hold the gun to my head -

I

am

perfectly

*******

finefinefinefinefinefine.


I am fine.

~A grimy, grimace of a grungy summer day~

Good Morning!


let the un-fun sting,
as the ardor never begins,
forecast a grimy grimace of a lousy
day ahead, at best, a clouded mess,
just to differentiate between bereaved
periods of rain, that train you in windows~
avoidance, for a grunge gloomy invades
all six senses (including the brain)
where all are concatenated),
and you can actually feel
the pallor descending
from brow to the bow
of your container,
feet swelling,

and you
in addition
to avoiding windows,
put some towels out over
all the mirrors, lest your pallor,
ah,

too late,
the grim grimace of grunted day
arrived even before the poem
was conceived, I deceived,
once more, the bore drill
drives a tubular of
despondency into
my spinal seam

Whether Weather Wither Whine Wailing
*****-Nilly  Wade  Why Why Writer

Why, Writer?

!               !               !          !              !                   !                 !
     !                !                !            !               !                     !
             !                !                      85°    !              !
 ­  !                                  all the ra!ndrops!fall except !      !       !
            !                !                 for one!that ra!ns up      !
                       !                  !               !           !              !            !
  !             !                !                 !                         !
                             !                                    !                   !        !
               !                     !            !                       !          
        !               !                                !                               ­  !
   !              !              !                 !                !            !                   !
             !                         !                     !                         !
     !                    !                    !                      ­  !                       !
                 !                      !                         !                  !  
         !                      !                     !                       !             !
!             !          !              !                     !        ¡               !              !
            !                     !                    !                   !                  !        !                  !        🪱     !                      !                !                 !

why why why
i cannot get into your mind
too distracted, too kludgy
humbled me three times
too busy running
why why why
i cannot seem to ever find
the solace in solo expeditions
deficit without you by my side
too busy running
from my pretty eyes

i dont want to come down,
i want to stay here,
high in the clouds
and dreaming with the stars...

i dont want to come down,
where the grass is greener
and the birds sing songs
while the sun shines upon me...

that's not happiness to me.

i dont want to come down,
I'm safer up here,
I'm high, up in the sky
with the pretty little kites...

that's happiness to me.

i dont want to come down
where my mind is sober
and my body alive...

i don't want to come down...
i want to stay high,
high above the world...

i want to stay high...
i dont want to fall down...

i want to be high,
i don't want sobriety,
i don't want to be living...

but if I can't be up high,
and if I have to come down...

is it possible to find happiness six feet under ground?

Who am I?
Oh, why, I haven't a clue!

Do I have an identity,
do I have a personality,
or a soul like you do?

Am I defined by Him?
Or am I defined by Me?
Do you decide who I may be?
Oh, my, who am I?

And why can't I
identify that
which makes me me...
My talents
or my failures,
my past or my present...
Do either or neither
determine me?

But, oh, I cry,
is it too late now
to find out how
to become me again?

But oh, who am I
to say I can't begin
to make my name.
When now may be the time
when now could be my time
to make me shine,
and make my self
whole,
new,
and me…

Hopefully...

15 years later, and we came back
the same creaking door announced our arrival
wood paneling and deer antlers seemed to remember us
the same way we started to remember them
six bunk beds and wooden shelves
where I used to put my radio and listen at night
the same key chains hanging from the light strings
we sat at the same wooden table
and put together that circular puzzle that has never left my mind
we went to the river and ran in bare feet
with the same fear of snakes as we did way back then
we sat 17 around the table and ate supper
and did the dishes with boiling water
we played Dutch blitz and card games
and always took someone else with us to the outhouse
we pumped that same water out of the same red pump
and the water had black flecks like it always used to
we all lined up and jumped off the rock in the same order as always
"my name is Bethany and I'm 22"
we hopped in the truck bed and went deer spotting at night
and remembered why we were scared of bears
and I remembered how much I miss being around my sisters
I slept on the top bunk with my sister
and she didn't stick her legs under my back like she always did
we climbed up to the fire tower
and rubbed leaves on our yellow jacket stings
I wish there was a natural remedy for nostalgia
when we left, they ran to the road to say goodbye
like they always did before
and my heart felt like some of it didn't leave with me
it took 15 years, but I came back

Do you think we’re the sort of girls to sit around on a Sunday night?
EAH (loud buzzer sound) you’d be wrong!!

What’s the opposite of seasonal depression - seasonal euphoria?
I’m self-diagnosing here, but I think I’ve got it.
I have all the symptoms:

Excessive happiness: a level of joy statistically improbable.
Compulsive smiling: grinning under the most mundane circumstances.
Irrational optimism: the feeling everything will turn out all right.
Compulsive socializing: relentlessly engaging in parties and outings.
Impulsive behavior: capricious decisions that lead to.. stuff.
Difficulty focusing: trouble concentrating on ‘serious subjects.’
Increased appetites: A craving for.. everything fun.

I have to call it. The symptoms are limpid, my diagnosis is:
Summer, seasonal euphoria, and it feels pretty good.
.
.
Songs for this:
Rooftop by Kelly Jones
The Game of Love by Katrina & the Waves
DeadBeat Club by The B-52s