My heart screams as I felt under the weather

(O Happy Pills, where art thou?)

I need cure.

Some money-can’t-buy, the-best-things-in-life-are-free kinda cure.

I need eyesight that only sees the good things in life.

I need aural that only capture the voice of well-wishers.

I need compassion, from anyone who might actually concern about my well-being.

I need affection, to being directed towards my horizon for me to keep my faith in those finer things in life.

But, above all,

I need warmth.

On my forehead,

on my lips,

from the flowing streams of blood to that heavy heart of mine.

I want an open arm from a warm body to wrap around me.

............................................................................

But too bad--Dollars and cents are no good in a case like this.