The Best Medicine – River Dixon (The Stories In Between)

I always find
The humor in things
Otherwise, the world
Would have consumed
Me long ago

Trust me
I’ve seen them
All of them
Paralyzed in
Their suffering
Felt them
In every fiber
Of my being

Jokes at a funeral
Cracking against
Scowling, judgmental
Stares, gaping mouths
Shocked by perceived
Callous indifference

But their outward
Projections, are not
The only means
To grieve
Some of us
Are not so
In our
Absorption of
The world

Outward appearances
Cannot define
The beast
Tearing apart
The shattering
Slowly, dying

So, cling to your
Narrow outlook
And I will
Continue to laugh
As the world
Burns, and
The fragments
Inside of me
Scrape and clank
Tear and puncture
With every
I force myself
To take

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Published by grumpygorman

I am a Social Worker by day and an artist/writer by night. I use the written word in an attempt to make sense of the secret worlds and dysfunctional dynamics that lurk beneath the facades of our daily interactions. I am not sure how my writing styles are characterized, nor am I overly concerned about it. I am immensely enthusiastic about music and often connect better with songs than I do people. I also have an intense appreciation for quality wines and whiskies, frequently consuming them in excess. I like things that smell good and struggle to manage the symptoms of a life-long relationship with depression. So, why "grumpygorman"? Spend some time here and find out...

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