Blur

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When sweat beads all over add to the existing, unsurmountable crisis...
When eye contact and heart to heart conversations form your bucket-list ...
When therapy sessions replace care-free, hang-out sessions and pills add to your daily agenda...

I have to say:

I’m doing fine, thank you.

When the veins ruffle up and the turmoil doesn't halt...
When the face turns warm and the zeal turns dark ...
When conscience evades you and vigour engulfs you...
When peace is couched on pensive moods and anything beyond seems barbaric...
When the act of missing out exceeds the fear of missing out and the fear of missing out exceeds the act...
When the crowd turns a censorious mutant and bliss resides on the cushion of timeless solitude...
When the circle of ruthless meditation is bigger than your fictitious circle of friends...
And upon being asked, as usual, the response is:

Im doing fine, thank you.

A dog on a speedy highway or a rookie nurse on the operation day
A drop-out on his life or your wrist on the knife
A labourer covered with tar or a struggling side-kick just at par
A tick on the beasts neck or the worker on his bounced cheque
A bully being teased or a tree, reluctantly, being upheaved
A cancerous feeling on things not working out or a woodpecker attempting to pout
An implosion on your beloved parting ways or reliance placed on one of those (not one but many) dutch courage days
I honestly am:

Doing fine, thank you.

Hence I conclude, the amygdala, devils den of the human anatomy, is quite a funny place
Everyone possesses, different blends of-course, but no-one expresses
And Oh! Good Lord! if someone, audaciously, tells his genuine tale
He is welcomed with reactions of shades, pale
Some with no ears to give, some with eyebrows raised
Some saying ‘its just a phase’ and some, hypercritically, calling you ‘one of a case’
Thus, on being asked, I’m impelled to simply maintain:

Im doing fine, thank you.