The moon shone as I slipped from the surface,

Far from where a head should be.

A bubble rose as the bobbing of chatter ceased.

I lay down in the dark, crushed under the weight of the prison I

so gently carved for myself.

It cradled me to death.

It will do the same to you.

But if we could succumb to the sinking, dig into the sludge,

Squeeze it though our fingers until the truth oozes out,

Maybe we would have a chance at this whole stupid thing.

Rather, we climb and climb until the sun blinds us and we blind each other.

So, I propose we all try to sink, for swimming never did us any good.

To stay still long enough for the quietness to seep in.

Each bubble will cause ruptures to begin with,

But eventually you won’t be able to tell blood from water.

And as we lie there the the delight of weightlessness and filth,

we may eventually begin to hear each other.

How many handfuls of mush today? On a good day it’s 13, on a bad day it’s more like 79. Shall we build you out of cardboard? Shall we build you out of tin cans? Maybe tin cans would be more sustainable. Last time the cardboard got wet.

You are no less than 130 perfectly aligned tin cans. We’re happy, we’re feeling good. You clank a little as we walk down the street but people don’t stare, much.

It’s Monday and I come and see you. Anxiety grips me as I wonder how your structure is holding up. I walk through the door to see a sea of cans strewn across the floor. 79 handfuls of mush today. My heart sinks. I gather you up, carefully placing one can on top of the other. It’s ok! I say as I cradle you, knowing that’s it is definitely anything other than ok.

But we agree, as long as we’ve got each other we’ll be ok. Right?

And as we lie there lying… to each other and to ourselves I think… maybe next time… I’ll build you out of oak.

Beautiful rose

pink as doom

a timer is set before you explode

an hour prepared

to announce

death's other birth (grief)

You are such a beautiful rose

ready to bloom

The pollen grains in your womb

every beetle did pursue

nectar lost due to parenthood

in a matter of minutes

offsprings loom

My beautiful rose

so much you've grown

busting rich colours

with an odour of honors

I'm going to miss you

in every season of all days

I don't want to cry

my tears are not spies

they refuse to cherish the moment you fly

I do want to cry

say your name one more time

bury my heart where no one will find

Beautiful rose

pink balloon

you're going to explode

really soon

lean on my hide

before I go... Boom!

Eyes filled with love, she wagged her tail and stood up with some difficulty, hearing the door open. She was greeted by eyes filled with hate and disgust, which was a first in 10 years. She had not been feeling herself lately. She couldn't run when called upon. She couldn't catch the weird looking plate when thrown in the air. She tried. But she just couldn't. Maybe that was why her little hooman hated her. But she quickly brushed away the silly thought and stumbled behind him tail wagging. For she knew that her little hooman loved her.

i think a lot about happiness.

where i can go to find it, thinking it's this complex thing so hard to achieve.

i realize it is all right in front of me.

happiness is surrounding me, surrounding all of us.

when i see the blue sky,

when i see the bright green grass and hear the birds overhead.

when i look into his ocean blue eyes.

when i feel the sand between my toes and the salt in my hair.

when i watch the sun set and rise on those early mornings and late evenings.

when i can feel his fingers intertwine with mine.

we can choose to find happiness in the litte things.

to step back from the big picture and look at the small moments.

the sun may set every night,

and it may get dark,

but the sun always rises again.

happiness might come in waves,

but we can always find it again.