I sat inside an empty room
and I began to write;
as the words came out
I stacked them in neat piles
until they reached from the floor
and pressed against the ceiling.
Column by column was erected-
towers of ideas I needed to express
and when I ran out of space
I began to fill my body as well
until all the previously hollow
seemingly cavernous spaces
where before there had only been
an ache that required something more
were now a home to all my lost words
and never again would I feel
incomplete or disassembled because
I truly existed in my words
and my words truly existed in me.
I wrote the words I had always needed
and said the words I had always wanted
until finally I was whole, I was free.
An ode to these wonderful
four legged creatures
with the tiniest and
simply cutest of features-
they are the only animal
split straight down the line
of personalities that are
either evil or divine;
one quarter fur balls
and another gentle kneading
the third part ungracious
reminders for feeding.
Perhaps the part of cats
most diabolically profound
is their need to push off ledges
anything not bolted down.
But on the other hand
(or paw, one might say)
is how perfect cats are
when enticed to cuddle or play!
When they sprawl on your stomach
or curl up under your chin
you must have that cat
before your nap can truly begin.
Unroll some yarn
so that they can play, sir
or if you want things to get lit
better pull out the laser!
A guilty pleasure
for one and for all
is watching your poor cat
chase the dot up the wall.
Lord have mercy on us
when they reject expensive new food
and when our toilet paper or sweaters
suffer the wrath of their mood.
Blinding is the glory of
a cute cat after a bad day
how quickly a soft belly
can make the stress melt away.
So when you’re in the trenches
of smelly cat litter poop scoops
please remember all of the times
your cat has suffered nose boops.
To adorable, squishy felines
we raise a saucer of milk
to the cute ones and the evil ones
with their fur soft as silk.
Sticks and stones
may break your bones
but words can massacre you.
Pulled from a quiver
like arrows they deliver
a perfect execution.
Then the infection to fear
that can last up to years
sometimes you never heal.
So if I am threatened
with words or with weapons
I’ll chance it against the stones.
One day the sun stopped
shining in the sky.
Every major city burned
pyres of wood so they could see.
When the logs ran out
they used dreams instead.
The dreams lit up like horrible
beautifully efficient infernos.
We were so fucking hollow
once our dreams became ash.
We were paper thin but we told
ourselves that at least we were warm.
We sacrificed our ideals and dreams
lest we might become uncomfortable.
We were so damn mean
to each other and I
have never been so
I think we were
so terrible because we
knew that eventually
we were going to end.
We could blame our
failure on our icy
hearts instead of
admitting we were just
too scared to try.
Yes, there are blood stains on my hands
but I wish the history books understood
that I had not meant to start a war-
my nails were sharper than I knew
and my strength greater than expected
truly, truly it was not my intention
to draw first blood and lay siege
but when backed into a corner
anyone can become a warrior, a leader
and though I left the world in ashes
I doubt you would have done differently.
It was not valour, it was survival.
I didn’t mean to
dream of you but it
happened all the same-
so I got in my car
with the windows down
hoping the midnight wind
blowing through my hair
would take you off my mind.
Home may be where most hearts are
but mine is an iron anchor
travelling the world affixed to myself
providing me the luxury
to render home where I want it to be
and that even if I choose to leave
it will keep me steady while I stay.
If a meteor was going
to hit the Earth
I would want you to
kiss me at the last second
so the only impact I felt
was your lips on mine
and I would not even care
that the world around us