here sits a lonely satyr,

one whom no one asks "what's the matter?"

no one wishes to hear my bleat,

it doesn't matter that i have human feet.

my goat hands cannot help my erection,

cold water and thinking of grandma my only deflection.

eating the grass across the lawn,

wishing that god had made me a faun.

i'm just a lonely satyr,

alright, bye, see ya later.

#comedy #poetry #tomatotomato #yadig

im alone, no one can be talking to me.

im with the trees, my secret service agency

i have my own back, given i'm spineless

stuck in a machine's rotational latency.

just me and the trees and the birds and the seeds.

the bees ran away when they met the breeze

leaving me to accept my mortality

in a world with nothing to change how i proceed.

picking up the beautiful flowers, deep inhale.

let the aroma keep your lungs from going stale

remember the colors you saw when he would smile?

his touch made your heartbeat register on the richter scale.

pull the ivy, such bland beauty for admiration.

changing a bland white lattice to a romantic iteration

braiding together the stems with fingers so nimble

pondering methods of cessation.

hanging from the tree, do i look as peaceful as you remembered me?

the wave is crashing

spashing all over my feet

carry me through the sand

toward the hope of a better place to stand

where

the sun is shining

reflecting off my smile

take me to the place i should go

a place where im not so foreign to know.

who

is the one that's crying?

tell me what you know, tired eyes,

lovely eyes, please rest your soul.

"i tried to reach out to you. i did. i did it in the only way i knew how. and it wasn't because of my parents, they didn't do anything to me. i'm not murdering you because my mom beat me when i was six, she never laid a finger on me.

i always wanted to watch cartoons while we'd enjoy each other's company around the tv. but it was the news. every night watching monotone machines recite words from a different machine being typed by a completely different person with a machine mentality. i used to feel pain when i'd hear of people dying. the emotionless human-news-machines i watched every night have shown me that i can be complacent to death. death is not a big deal. death is all of us more so than living is; it is our only one true fate.

but, you see, i'm still afraid of it. not really though. i only pretend to be so i can maintain some semblance of realism amongst the others, the ones whose eyes still well up every time something loses it's ability to inhale more oxygen.

it's so confusing, trying to figure this all out. and i'm not crazy, i'm just thinking about things that you aren't. but maybe that is crazy, because i have never seen a definitive guide to identifying a quantity of craziness, so i cannot say for sure whether or not it's crazy.

but i know i'm confused and terrified, but not of death. of the darkness that death brings.

so that's why i need to murder you; maybe you can get me some answers," he replied, then shot her between the eyes.