So Cute. So Fluffy. So Adorable.

A Tree Falls

A tree falls in the forest.

Nobody is nearby. Nobody to hear.

Does it even make a sound?

A tree falls in the forest.

It will impact the ecosystem

even more than it impacts the ground.

A lighthouse stops its beacon.

A ship nearby is lost and weary.

It cannot see. It runs aground.

A man dies alone in his hut.

He was kind, he was friendly, he was good.

At his funeral, no friends of his could be found.

But one kind lady far away might remember.

He had helped her find her way, a long time ago.

And so his memory, perhaps, will be skyward bound

as the man who loved everybody but himself.

Foreboding

I am in the dark

The rain pounds on the windows

My eyes snap open

Time is running out

I can't feel the urgency

What's in the future?

I look but don't see

I understand but can't feel

I know but can't act.

I have one last chance.

I should prepare - the rain stops -

I wasted my time.

There is only fear left

I am sitting here.

All alone. By myself.

Bothering nobody.

You come along.

To do whatever. I don't care.

You look at me and sigh loudly.

No, what the fuck?

What was that supposed to mean?

"Nevermind." Nevermind my ass, tell me.

Is what I want to say, but I don't.

Instead I take that bravado and use it elsewhere.

I fake strength as I shrink inside.

I already know you do this bullshit on purpose.

This is something you do all the time.

Always ends the same way.

But it doesn't always end the same.

I'm not the only person in your mind.

So why do I assume it is?

You go and argue with the pacifist bastion.

She yells back. I fear it is about me.

I sneak closer. It is not.

This is the second time that I assumed wrong about your yelling.

You have much bigger troubles than me. I am not important.

So why do I always assume? And why do I always fear?

I have no answers to such questions.

I have no solutions to such problems.

There is only fear left in this husk.

She just cant loose!

I'm Sorry. I'll Leave. I'll Go.

It appears that

I have done

something bad again.

It appears that

I have drawn

your ire again.

I'm sorry.

I'll leave.

I'll go.

Am I just

another filthy

attention-seeker?

Is this

another farce

I've made?

I'm sorry.

I'll leave.

I'll go.

Am I

Not even worth

The air I breathe?

Am I really

Such scum

And filth?

I'm sorry.

I'll leave.

I'll go.

Am I truly

Just another blight

On this world?

Should I

End it here

To not be a burden?

I'm sorry.

I'll leave.

I'll go.

Just say the words

and I'll make

my exit.

Just tell me to get out

and I'll heed

your command.

I'm sorry.

I'll leave.

I'll go.

Forever That Child At Age Five

Do you ever wonder if people can really change beyond their formative years?

"Sure they can. Maybe not the whole, but a solid chunk? Yeah."

Well, I suppose that's true to some extent.

A man can live the first 20 years of his life in a constant state of movement.

Studying, working, doing chores, being what he needs to be in order to survive a harsh environment.

Then he can live the next 20 years in a carefree state of relaxation,

and live the last 50 as the hardworking man once more to provide for his family.

Or at least, that's the story of my father.

But I fear I am still going to be that same child I was, back when I was five, ten, fifteen.

I fear I am forever going to be under the shadow of that man,

that man who had two children without even realizing how fucked up his own childhood was.

I fear I will never become anything more, at my core, than that five year old child.

Sure, I suppose I'll change, superficially; maybe I'll know a bit more, fit into society a bit more, and so on.

But at heart I will still be that same, sad, scared little child,

a child who would do anything for a bit of affirmation and approval.

I fear that when I am thirty, or fifty, or eighty, or a hundred-twenty, or however the fuck long I live,

that I will still be no different from the child I was when I was five.

I fear that I am always going to be the same little boy who begs for just the slightest bit of love.

I fear that I am forever that child at age five.

God Will Weep

God will weep

for the souls of the damned

and the sins of the holy

when I shove my fist through his chest

God will weep

for the poor and suffering

and the mistakes of the greats

when I kick his corpse off the cliff

God will weep

for the sins he has committed

and the suffering of the good

when I shove my foot through his skull

God will weep

for the wrongs he has done to me

and the defects he made me with

when I throw his ashes into the wastewater collection plant

God will weep

because when I find his house

and break in the door

he fucking better cry.

There was a young man from Peru

Whose limericks stopped at line two

As I put my elbow on the table and the hand under my mastoid bone and grab at my short hair I stop and think

wow okay, that felt strangely feminine why did I do that

I Don't Deserve A Thing

I don't deserve to be happy, I'm just another useless fool,

Doing nothing and nothing and nothing till the end of time,

and if saving the someone took 10 hours of my life and I wouldn't be noticed,

then I'd probably just let them die whatever death out of laziness.

I don't deserve to be sad, I've been relatively lucky,

I am fed, with a roof over my head, constant electricity, more clothes than I know what to do with, and the sky is blue,

and it doesn't matter that I was beaten and yelled at and traumatized,

because everyone else had it much worse and got over it, so why can't I?

I don't deserve to be wanted, I'm not supposed to be wanted,

Anybody who wants me is greatly appreciated and surely a fool,

for anybody who could love this person with this face is a miracle,

a miracle of idiocy and foolishness and complete lack of judgement.

I don't deserve to be hated, why would you hate me,

it brings you nothing and I'm not even worthy of hate,

instead please ignore me, ignore everything I say,

for the silent treatment is worse than the loudest slur.

I don't deserve to talk, I don't deserve to be known,

I don't deserve to be heard louder than the people who starve,

or the people who bleed, or the people who lose, or the people who die,

I don't deserve to deserve at all, anything in this lucky, cruel world.