gets better but me.
Ain’t that something?
(Oops! Meds kicking in… I’m gone!)
What was required of this for us may be at an end.
High functioning, maybe we are.
Therapeutic, maybe this was.
Exercise in futility, perhaps.
Slowreader — I Like You Most
and your bright eyes are giving me sunburns
and the grandstands are filling with headlines
you like me when i’m not being stubborn
but i like you most all the time
Awareness opened to new and wonderful things. You see. Lids peeled back and orbs burning in the glare. You see. And you are dissatisfied.
“Top” is not somewhere we will ever be.
So says we. So also says she.
So why aren’t we and she again then?
Broken… The kind of broken that it does not make sense to mend.
Not shattered. Just broken and useless.
A little bit, but not so much.