To tell you I am panicked is not an option.
No one tells the rain, “I am drenched”.
It cannot help you.
If I told you I feel compelled to run, I mean it metaphorically and literally.
That is to say, I need to feel my limbs before they crash at you like malfunctioning windshield wipers.
No one taught me umbrellas right. No one gave me goulashes. I do puddle diving.
I practice treading water in costume and call it synchronized swimming.
To tell you I am depressed is insufficient. It covers too much ground.
You don’t own a boat.
It’s so obvious the words begin to mean nothing.
That is to say, its like pointing out that winter is often wet.
Never mind you have a hose. Never mind I am good at buckets. I know cracked pipes.
I speak leak-fixing and hope the patch includes me.
To tell you I am anxious still does not do. It radiates outward until the feeling is mutual.
Misery does not love this company.
I am not yawning because you bore me, this is my body turning off because it can’t breathe awake.
That is to say, it thinks I’m drowning so it’s beginning to shut down.
Note I am the one who knows CPR. Note you will watch as I try to resuscitate myself. I am high on low maintenance.
I am an expert at calming storm and praying you’ll learn life vest.
who wrote this? It hits hard, rubber mallet with an accompanying nerf massage. There’s misery, & mastery of misery. It’s good. Especially “Im high on low maintenance”. Physician heal thyself…place the mirrors right & don’t forget the lidocaine.