here I lie--
percieved promise backwashed by a waning drive.
Yet, somehow, dogs continue
to give Cats a good cardiovascular excersize session.
The Microfish bowl keeps magnifying life
that is unaware of itself.
All sorts of wonders ponder themselves to death
where they cannot be longed for so tediously.
To say I am ungrateful for all of this
would be a terrible lie
full of deciet, broken promises,
broken homes, all sorts of things.
So I shall suffice to reflect upon beauty
as the scarlet pool of life flows from me
and into the small square to which I have befitted
so well for so long in dreams.
Some may quote me as being the 'masochistique'.
If this is justified then I suppose the
contradiction of temporary euthanasia
to the title is but an enigma in our small world.
- - - -
Sudden jolts into reality tend to be most uncomfortable,
though I can see how I may be deserving.
But lo--I may finally look upon my crystal
clear reflection, presented before me on a
looking glass brainwashed by fog to say
'Yes, sir, you are beautiful.'
to which a pleasantly agonizing smile
would be returned.
All the same, my heart is still
drifting through the concrete beneath me,
looking to find a more hideous sight to
behold with compliments,
for one always wishes to be called
a siren, if only for the attention.
The solitude that has brought itself upon me
(in none less than autobiography)
would very much like to come out,
It begs me to show it to the world
again and again and again and
I put it in the back yard so that it
may bark at the neighbors.
So sympathetic, I am,
for they presented me with a
mold of gelatin when I first moved
into this state (of soul), so
it seems only kind to gift them back.
As I let the gate to the street open
and my dear, dear Solitude bids itself
away, to find another probably,
I find myself awaiting the favor returned
by my dear, dear patrons of the next
house on the block.
I hope as a child for a lovely,
curiously bitter first taste
of coffee that they will.