I've seen introverts become the center of attention
I've seen extroverts go ignored
I've heard complacent well-adjusted human beings
Cry out for something more
And there's a million and one things to do with life
So don't you dare be bored
Because there are three types of people in this world:
Those who do
Those who don't
And those who didn't, but wish they had
At times it's wrong to do what's good
Sometimes you've got to be bad
So don't you go on second guessing
Lest you end up with regret
Follow your instincts
Don't look back
'Cause there are three kinds of people on this earth:
Those in the future
Those in the past
And those in the present, so make it last
At times it happens all so fast
You forget to examine the extent of the impact
But don't you worry about forgotten things
They'll find their way back to you in your dreams
And there are those who will tell you that it's false
They'll comfort you with broken arms
To drag you down to into the swamp
Trying to stop you before you start
Now there are three sects of people on this planet:
And then the true believers
Examine your head to find the truth
Don't worry about what you can or can't proove
Nothing matters nearly as much
As the things that matter to you
You see, there's no right or wrong way to live a life
It all depends on how it makes you feel
The miraculous fact that you exist at all
Gives you the right to determine what is real
Because there are but three animals in this pen:
And the Golden hen
Care for me is sacrafice, but how is it sacrifice ?
it is sacrifice because it is something you offer to people,
some people give it to few, others give it to many.
But everytime that happens, you are sacraficing something regardless.
To care for someone is to deny yourself,
(pay very close attention to this)**
To care for someone is to not expect anything back from them.
To care for someone isn't something you do to get something from them, some people just can't see when someone is caring for them
some people are blinder than others.
This is why some have glasses and some don't.
Who every said the heart and the mind don't need glasses also ?
If you care for someone, and you try showing that person that you care for them. You are allowing them to take advantage of it,
you are allowing them to experience it. Allowing them to take more from you, as much as they need as much as they want.
And the reason you care, or the reason you should care is because you are patient enough to do it.
Why is there people with good hearts? And people whose hearts have become cold ?
Why did I set my lust on the attention of anyone
And look. No one cares
I expect so highly yet, nothing prevails.
Why do I always do this
I'll do a pity walk by myself
Public Prosecutor v Blaise B.
 3 SLR 69
Suit No: CC No 666/2013
Decision Date: 12 December 2013
Court: Court of Appeals
Coram: B. K. Beaudoir J
Counsel: G. Bozo for the Prosecution, Renagaresh Bhulimio S.C. for the Accused
Criminal Law - Offences - Murder - Defence of grave and sudden provocation - Two requirements for defence - Subjective requirement that accused deprived of self-control by provocation - Objective requirement that 'grave and sudden' provocation exists based on 'reasonable man' test
Criminal Law - Offences - Murder - Defence of grave and sudden provocation - Applying the 'reasonable man' test - Whether basis exists for interfering with trial judge's decision that provocation grave and sudden - s 300 Exception 1 Penal Code (Cap 224)
1. Ms Lurveit Ima Ho, aged 25 ('D1') first came to know the Accused, Blaise B., through a personal advertisement which the Accused had posted up on a relatively popular internet website, Craigslist. Though D1 was, at all material times, living with her long-time partner Ms Clitty Li, aged 27 ('D2') in their rented apartment at Block 69 East Coast Road, Singapore ('the premises'), a wild and frenzied love affair between D1 and the Accused ensues.
2. On or about 6 January 2009, sometime between 11.30 pm and midnight, loud gunshots were heard from the apartment both D1 and D2 shared. According to an eyewitness' account, the Accused was seen stumbling out from the apartment soon after the gunshots with his pants around his knees. It was also reported that the Accused had, in his attempt to flee the scene of the crime, 'stumbled around like a headless chicken' as he made his way down the stairs.
3. D1 and D2 were both found dead in the master bedroom with multiple gunshot wounds to their bodies. There was no evidence of a struggle in the apartment. Dr Philly Shiotz, Consultant Forensic Pathologist with the Centre for Forensic Medicine, Health Sciences Authority, performed the autopsy on both D1 and D2 at about 5am the same day . Based on his findings, the cause of D1's and D2's death were certified as follows:
D1 - Acute Haemorrhage due to gunshot wound of the heart
D2 - Severe brain damage due to gunshot wound to the frontal temporal lobe
4. Police investigations led to the arrest of the Accused on Friday, 13 February 2009 and the Accused was charged as follows:
"That you, Blaise B. (aka Niggaz on Parole) on the 6th day of January 2009 between 11.30pm and 12 am, at Blk 69 East Coast Road, Singapore, did commit murder by causing the death of one Lurveit Ima Ho, f/25, and you have thereby committed an offence punishable under Section 302 of the Penal Code, Chapter 224."
"That you, Blaise B. (aka Niggaz on Parole) on the 6th day of January 2009 between 11.30pm and 12 am, at Blk 69 East Coast Road, Singapore, did commit murder by causing the death of one Clitty Li, f/27, and you have thereby committed an offence punishable under Section 302 of the Penal Code, Chapter 224.
5. It is undisputed that the Accused had, at the aforesaid premises, produced an illegal firearm and opened fire at both D1 and D2, thereby causing their untimely deaths.
The Prosecution Evidence
5. The prosecution led evidence by way of conditioned statements from 48 witnesses and oral evidence from one witness. There was little debate on the evidence presented by the prosecution and the material aspects thereof can be summarised as follows.
7. According to oral evidence of the prosecution's witness, Ms Zizi, whom we understand was recently gunned down by an unknown assailant in a public toilet situated somewhere in Geylang, the relationship between D1 and the Accused had soured sometime in November 2008. D1 had confided in Ms Zizi that the Accused was no longer able to 'satisfy' her sexual needs. Ms Zizi was further told by D1 that she had, on several occasions, caught the Accused masturbating in front of the fridge with a chicken carcass in hand. Concerned and embarrassed, D1 had confronted the Accused with advice to seek psychiatric help, to which the Accused promptly brushed aside unheeded.
8. It was only until the unusual habits of the Accused, which had by that time, deteriorated to such degree that he was seeking sexual gratification through the use of cabbage leaves, did D1 finally decided to take matters into her own hands.
9. Based on hand phone records obtained by investigating officers, the Accused was called to the apartment sometime around 10.30pm. At 11.15 pm, the Accused arrived at the scene of the crime. It is not known whether D2 was in the apartment at the time of the Accused's arrival. However, according to several eyewitnesses around neighboring blocks, D2 was seen returning to the apartment sometime about 11.30 pm.
10. The cautioned statement as well as the long statement recorded from the Accused were admitted in evidence as being voluntarily made without any objection from the Accused or his counsel. Insofar as is material, the gist of the said cautioned statement as well as the material portions of the long statement are summarised as follows:
(a) D1 had, against the will of the Accused, tethered him to the bed by way of leather straps shortly after he arrived at the apartment. According to the Accused in his statement, D1 had intended to insert a raw carrot into his anus.
(b) D1 was in the act of removing the Accused's pants when D2 stepped into the master bedroom.
(c) A heated argument ensues between D1 and D2 and the Accused, whose presence was momentarily ignored, manages to chew his way through to freedom.
(d) Greatly disturbed by what D1 had intended to do to him, the Accused took his pistol out (which was hidden in the pocket of his jacket) and opened fire, taking D1 down before proceeding to shoot D2.
The Defence Case
11. The evidence given by the Accused was brief and concise. He admitted to the killing of both D1 and D2 but pleaded not guilty to murder in reliance on the defence of provocation and diminished responsibility under Exception 1 of Section 300 of the Penal Code (Chapter 224) insofar as to attribute his loss of self-control on the failings of modern society.
12. Not only has the Accused elected to testify, he has, in the stead of his solicitors, conducted his closing submissions at the trial of this matter.
13. Though belated at this juncture, I find it pertinent to address the issue of the Accused choosing to conduct his closing submissions himself. Whether out of foolhardiness or arrogance on the part of the Accused, it is not my place to say, but it is my duty to express my concerns at such an ill-advised approach. It is rather alarming that the Accused's solicitors have failed to dissuade their client from committing such a folly, considering the gravity of the situation. Mind you, the Accused's life is hanging by a thread, and we are all aware that under the laws of Singapore, more effort is needed to pop a girl's cherry than it does to snap that thread.
14. Be that as it may, as convoluted as it was entertaining, the crux of the Accused's submissions is that his aggression had been the product of the environment he grew up in, amongst other factors and influences fuelled by the failings of modern society, and in consequence a characteristic, of which the Court should take account when assessing his loss of self-control.
15. First off, it is with utmost regret that I admit that this over-debated theory leaves much room for argument. Personally, I do not reject the idea that a person, so exposed to the depravities of his fellow beings and the gradual decline of our moralistic values, may be so conditioned in such matter that it becomes an indelible imprint on that person's character. However, I am persuaded to think that it is ultimately a personal choice to allow this debasement of ethics to be replicated by way of an deviant act.
16. If immorality, along with all other choices, is caused through hereditary and environmental means, might not the same be said for the laws that govern this land, which ultimately serve to protect the rights of its citizens. Unless proven otherwise, the laws of nature, on which our written laws have been established, are quite certainly inherent traits of all humankind. Accordingly, I am inclined to find the Accused's argument that his actions were purely a gross reflection of the unfortunate circumstances of which he had been exposed to, a weak and fallible defence. I am minded to think that the Accused was aware that what he was doing was a wrongful act, and therefore clearly mindful of the possible implications of his actions.
17. I am now invited to consider whether the provocation was sudden and grave enough to make a reasonable man act as the Accused had done so as to excuse his action.
18. As the law has developed, there are two distinct requirements for the provocation defence to apply: first, a ‘subjective’ requirement that the accused was deprived of his self-control by provocation; and secondly, an ‘objective’ requirement that the provocation should have been ‘grave and sudden’. The latter requirement involves the application of the ‘reasonable man’ test accepted in Vijayan v PP  2 MLJ 8 at p 12; [1975-1977] SLR 100 at p 107 and cited in Ithinin bin Kamari v PP  2 SLR 245 at p 250:
In our judgment, under our law, where an accused person charged with murder relies on provocation and claims the benefit of Exception 1 of s 300, the test to be applied is, would the act or acts alleged to constitute provocation have deprived a reasonable man of his self-control and induced him to do the act which caused the death of the deceased and in applying this test it is relevant to look at and compare the act of provocation with the act of retaliation.
19. Whether provocation is ‘grave and sudden’ enough to prevent an offence from amounting to murder is a question of fact, as stated in the Explanation to Exception 1 of s 300; this includes the question of whether the Accused had demonstrated the level of self-control to be expected of an ordinary person. Given the circumstances noted above, the Accused must have been in an emotional, vulnerable state of mind when he was told by D1 that she was going to 'fuck him senseless' with the carrot, which she had warmed up in the microwave oven moments before. Further, considering the fact that the Accused is a music recording artist known for his deplorable attitude towards the female sex, he would have felt emasculated by D1's actions and that would have tipped him over the edge. It is, however, most unfortunate that D2 had been present at the scene at that time. Her life could have been spared if she had not returned to the apartment when she did.
20. Therefore, the Accused is hereby convicted on a reduced charge of culpable homicide not amounting to murder.
Final Appeal for the Record (Label):
State of New York
Jefferson Washington Lincoln Carver
Aka: Blaise B/Niggaz on Parole
Docket #: 10098765
Excerpt of certified court transcript (pages 1624-1628):
Jefferson Washington Lincoln Carver addresses the court:
who value the lives of their families
beyond the mere gavel of law, I ask you:
What is innocence?
Do we not all bear the mark of Cain?
Are the sins of the ancestors not visited upon the children?
If I am not my brother’s beeper,
can’t I, at least, be his supplier.
What guilt is there in that?
Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury,
‘Twas not I who pulled the trigger.
I was at my Auntie’s playing Grand Theft Auto with my cuz.
For argument’s sake, forget my alibi.
‘Twas society. Yea, she is the nefarious villain you seek!
She is the trigger happy bitch that has brought me before you today.
I swear it upon my loins.
Nay, peeps, I swear it upon my very crotch
that hath launched a thousand quips
and knocked up that be-otch Helen
bareback on her high Trojan horse.
My childhood was not coddled with frills of Fisher-Price
nor with the dulcet tones of Baby Mozart.
My rattle was still attached to a snake.
My music was the wail of police sirens
and the staccato clap of gun fire
arising from domestic disturbances in the hood.
You see…my moms was a crack ho’.
Give me pause, good friends,
as I reflect upon her saintly semblance.
It is misted in memory
like morn beneath the Brooklyn Bridge
or Dian Fossey’s silverback gorillas
playing hide the banana.
My moms hit the pipe
like Mike McGuire hit home runs on the juice
and dragged my ass from trick to trick.
Child Services took me from her diligent care
when I was but a tot in an Armani running suit.
To what end?
I was shuffled through the foster care system,
weaned on neglect and nurtured on abuse.
Today, I wear these childhood wounds as medals.
I am not covetous of bling, but I wear it.
My desire doth not dwell on Nike Airs, I just do it.
Is it not the fashion of a man to be fashionable?
To be arrayed in the silken threads and primped with pimpish hats
Who’s pluck’d feathers would shame the Bird of Paradise
In all its plum’d puffery.
Jurors, my only sin be this…
I covet the attention I was denied as child --
I yearn for the tenderness of a mother’s caress
The slam dunk lessons of a heroic father.
Hath not my wounds given me the merit
To covet no less? If offense be taken,
I, too, shall wear that affront as an honor --
A medal from the frontlines of urban warfare.
In this naked simulacrum of Law and Order
We can no longer speak of perps’ and vics’,
For victims we are all:
Victims of Madison Avenue
Who make us crave
The shit we need not.
Victims of the media
Who elevate celebrity,
Pathetic parrots of rote,
To near divinity.
Victims of Darwinian capitalism,
That makes short-shrift of our humanity.
Victims of ‘the man’,
Yes, you crackers in the robes,
Who sat our black asses
On the back of the bus for so long
It left indelible marks
In the upholstery of our souls.
Who in this courtroom
Is not a victim?
Come forth, I pray thee!
Let them cast the first stone
And beat the soot off my weary soul.
Let him render the eye-for-an-eye justice
That leaves the world blind.
No takers? No volunteers?
That’s because, your Honor, there are no perps.
We live in a perp’less society!
God is dead and our lives are perp’less!
We are all innocent.
“Who is innocent,” I ask you.
And I answer…
All of us!
Every fucking one of us!
Yea, ‘Twas Society who pulled the trigger,
Find society guilty and by this fair construct you will be compelled to bear witness to my innocence.
I pray thee, season thy justice with mercy, for in your zeal to dispense the former, you shall make orphans of all.
In summation, a wise man once said,
‘The quality of mercy is not strain’d.”
I add, Nor can innocence be feign’d.
Behind Justitia’s blindfold it is writ:
‘We are victims all’,
Just Watchin the Clock (rap song)
I question the laws which are shared among our youth during these hard times; we have no great war, no question that burns the nations to their knees blaring. We simply have our poverty and power, our endless struggles and our eating disorders.
We are the nation of winners and runners; we are the hypocrites of our father’s religion. Welcome to America, so jam packed with fast foods and cigarettes that you can hardly taste the reality before it has bombed you down.
And then there’s you, and you’re sitting there, staring at the screen… laughing at the mother with the black and white face have her daughter slaughter and eat her, and I’m laughing to, trying to hide the little girl inside me screaming.
“Kiss me,” I’ve had enough broken hearts and sleepless nights to know what it means to have a hand to hold and a body to cling to when the street lights flicker and people ponder about your past.
Talk to me, open your mouth and share with me the secrets of your mother, tell me what tragic car accident brought you to this position and how far you’d run to hold her hand. Question my beliefs and my relationships. Chose kind words over replaceable concerns, fight for my attention, and question my devotion. I want to watch movies with you, discuss some kind of universe beyond my mind, and our boundaries, hold me close while the lights in the theater are dim we’ll dance behind the stage. The lights will be our stars, predict my future with your soft hands and gentle grin.
Because you’re a stranger, I can get away with wanting, because you’re new to me, I can fantasize, holding your hand in mine, resting my head on your chest, listening to your heart beat as you sleep.
Because I’m alone tonight, I can fondle a thought, fish for a chance to be on my own with you. Tell me something; open your mind to the possibilities of me and you.
Of course, all this is wasted on time, and I’ve tried to send you signals, I want to be your friend, I want to talk to you into the late hours, stand in the midnight man’s circle sweating, calling out into the darkness, sharing songs and secrets until the dawn shatters our dream.
Then the bell rings, and you move, get up and leave, go outside to smoke, and my mind goes blank, the thoughts and dreams of the tomorrows that we could have spent together have disappeared, into nonentity. The audacity of my fantasies have brought me nothing, so I move back to questioning the laws which are shared among the youth of these hard times, and I am shaken into a reality of obesity and anorexia, of Christians and Muslims fallen in line with the atheists, I don’t mind, because tomorrow, we’ll meet again and I’ll smile and you’ll nod, and I’ll dream while you giggle.
Today my son told me he wanted to be like me when he grows up
so i slapped him across the face,
I told him you better get your shit straight son,
you try to be like me you're gon' end up a bum.
No one could be like me not even you,
I told the same thing to your bitch ass brother,
and as for your mother she be askin' me for money all the time,
i know im a rich ass guy but that don't mean i'd waste a dime for her,
Your uncle lied about the way she died i fuckin stuffed her nappy ass in the
trunk of the mercedes and left her there for 10 days,
it was only supposed to be a week but then the next three i thought
she could ressurect just like Jesus did,
Turned out she didn't cause i didn't hear no banging but than again i never checked,
Don't be a wreck like your fuckin' uncle Johnny who tried defending her and
they both ended up in a train on their way to San Francisco,
That's right why you think no fuckin' cops came you see what im saying,
i'm teaching you how to be tough and rough like your dad,
Don't be a little sissie like your little brother Stan who joined the Klan
just so he would be a part of something,
Let me tell you something bout' your grandpa Ronnie he's always grumpy for nothing.
If you look at my eyes im a psycho son,
I think it's fun to wrap chains around people's necks and tie em' to the back
of the car,
i know sometimes i take it too far but that man at the gasoline station
thought he could take me down and make me look like a clown,
the sound of that just makes my nerves tingle and not a single person
has ever had the balls to tell me some stupid shit like that,
so grabbed him like rat and hit his legs with the bat till' they break,
you need to know both our life's are at steak every turn we take,
There's no hesitating and don't you ever run away,
always pay attention to the people who got something to say,
I tell people that I missed you that day,
when you were gon' i couldn't say goodbye,
But thats what happens when Daddy's fuckin working all the time,
All i could do is just sigh and know this is the end of the line,
I'm looking at you now but i can't see your face,
I guess it's pretty hard you'd have to have x-ray vision to see under a grave,
I shave now because i remember how you never liked how my beared looked on me,
Just thinking bout' your death makes me wanna scream,
and now i see myself in this fuckin' hospital now knowing why im here
or what i ever did wrong,
I'm writing you this song to tell you,
Never be like me cause sadly your daddy is never doing the right thing,
But take care say hi to god for me i hope this letter can get to heaven
so you can see it.
Be happy with your whole family up there cause their dead too with you,
i didn't want you to get lonely.
Now you feel at home and i'm just sitting here all alone.
It has it's own personal significance and some people may relate to it.
We live in a girl eat girl world.
all going through the same shit.
All different, but alike,
each with the power to help but the will to destroy.
The ability to casually ruin a girl's day with one remark,
taking pleasure from failure, because they're running on nothing.
Each trying to get something they need.
attention? care? or even someone to acknowledge the fact that they exist.
Exercising the one "asset" they know they have;
Resulting in being called a whore,
or being whistled at by those crude old men down the street.
But she is worth more than that,
she is worth more than explicit picture,
she is worth more than a few blow jobs here and there.
She is worth more than being called a slut.
She IS more than any of those things.
She is human.
A cannibalistic way of living.
If you pay attention to the flowers,
the blooms in the hollows of your cheeks,
buds hanging from your jawbone,
bowing to a somber reflection,
Overlook the wilted edges
and the mud above the roots,
perhaps the petals won't fall.
If you sing for the meadow
lush in your temples
and between your eyes,
green with the vibrant flora,
light will fall over your eyes
and the growth in the soil
will be alive with allure.
the flexing spine,
shifting behind the lungs.
A forest spanning dips and curves
from shoulder to hip,
the sway of your midriff
under the weight of
and the valleys between.
Your own eyes,
holders of the grandeur
of what is molded around the bones.
You must prune the roses
with love of your warm garden
and the birds with flock
to your trees.
The kid whose mom always prefaced his introduction with "he's a little shy". He wasn't shy, he was careful, careful from an early age to speak only the most particular of words after seeing how it was a careless choice of words that tore his parents apart. This was the kid who could hear his father yelling and his mother crying but lacked the courage to leave his post at the bottom of the stairs and give his mom a hug. He knew that was all she really needed.
He knew from an early age all he required for a sound nights sleep was a hug and kiss from his dad. This is the kid who would stay up, wordless, into the night wondering if he was safe. As the evening waned and the hours passed he'd never think that his dad forgot. Daddy never forgets. It became his mantra and as he fell into a deep meditative state he would have the same dream as he ever had on those hug less nights. Waking up the next morning he could always recall that warm blanket of a hug because after all, daddy never forgets..
Be the kid who held his hand over his heart during the morning pledge but never volunteered to say it over the speakers because he hated the sound of his own voice. His teacher would bring it up at parent teacher night but his mom always stood up for him "he's just shy". Upon returning home they would ask how his day was and he would smile, shrug, and fall into them, simply awaiting that embrace.
Be the kid who, when his parents finally divorced, never asked them what happened. He never asked them because what if his words had the same effect? Words were lava and if you fell into them you would die. So instead you choose life. On walks home from school, hopping from stone to stone, you never squished an ant or trashed a nest, you cried for the first time when your dog died because nothing ever loved you like he did. He never said a word yet he understood you better than anyone ever did and the thought of coming home and not seeing him basking in the sunlight under his favorite spot in the living room made you bawl.
That night you would have a dream about heaven, place where you could visit in your sleep, a place where upon opening ones mouth sunbeams burst forth hot enough to bask in but never enough to burn.
Be the kid whose most anxious night was spent at that first middle school dance. Boys and girls dancing and the compulsion within him to do the same was palpable. Sure he could have danced alone but He didn't want to dance alone. He wanted to dance with that little girl sitting down by the Coke machine. The one with the frilly dress down to her knees, red band in her hair, and bangs that begged the question "where do i get me one of those. You should be this kid because he actually paid attention when his parents were watching their old movies. You would walk up to that girl and without a word look down into her eyes and for a moment forget why it is that you walked over, but when you finally came too you'd remember that scene from that old black and white movie and put your hand out just like Humphrey bugarr did - at least you think that was his name.
Be this kid because while everyone else was awkwardly moving and swaying like branches in the wind you knew how to hold someone. You knew how to have a conversation without words and this night you two were writing novels. What song was playing? No clue, she'll get mad at you one day for not remembering and you'll be surprised when it was something as stupid as 'I want it that way'.
This is the kid whose favorite nights were spent in her car after driving you home. This is the same kid who when she told him she loved him all he could think was "how can I see you so well when the porch light isn't even on?” She says again, hey - you silly goose, did you hear me? I said I love you. Be this kid because you weren't stupid like everyone else and said "I think I love you too". You grabbed her face and kissed her and for that moment both your worlds stood still. Stagnant in that pregnant pause, just before you broke, you’d catch her gaze and simply smile, warm as heaven.
Be this kid because you would never have a problem with people not liking you. You were far too observant to fall into that trap. Everyone hated the bullies and just called them jerks. The class clown was entertaining but everyone said he was dumb. The girls in the lunchroom seemed never to have anything nice to say about Jennifer and Lindsey and you couldn't even finish your lunch because you just wanted to slam your hands on the table and yell "no Sam, he doesn't like you. Maybe you should actually let him talk instead of complaining about how you don't like his friends. Next time you see him don't beg him for his jacket because, fuck, it’s really cold at the skating rink in December. He told you he was taking you to the rinks, why didn't you bring your own damn jacket?
But you would never actually say that, because people would label you judgmental. Rather, remain in peace as the quiet kid because no one could ever put a label on you with any certainty. Sure they could say you were mean, more likely they would say you're weird, but you had loyal friends. Friends who upon hearing that would ask "Really? He's weird? Why is he weird hmm?” Their rebuttal was always "I mean...I dunno, he just really weird, I guess". You would never give them an actual reason to hate you. The meanest things they could ever say about you would be opinion. Opinions are like really big tits. Full and generally well rounded, but in the end it was the real stuff you were after.
Be the quiet kid because your silence would show strength. When she breaks up with you through oceans and sands miles away over the phone you won't say a word. She won't be able to see the look of devastation in your eyes and she'll feel terrible for doing it. She would tell her friends that you were so strong. "He didn't yell he, he didn't argue, he didn't ask me if there was another guy, he didn't even cry". Yeah. You cried. But she would never know how much.
Be the quiet kid who always meets someone else. The quiet kid who will draw in strangers because they can feel his energy, they're figuratively and literally moved by it. They sit down next to you across the bench and introduce themselves with a perfectly innocent "whatcha reading?” Which you think is a dumb question because the words “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime” were clearly printed in large yellow text on both the front and back covers. Simple trivialities.
Be the quiet kid because the quiet kid will become a quiet man, a quiet man who people could always turn to as their rock. You are stable, you are certain, and you always display your emotions because how else would you speak?
Be the quiet kid because the quiet man will have quiet children, and their children will be quiet and the children after them will be quiet too. Be the quiet kid because you and all your quiet children will never forget to give your kids their goodnight hug.
Little fluffy black and white guy,
where does your hair go?
Dark nights hide fighting rage over a woman…but you live without procreation tools
Violence in the green grass and sunshine
Bloody fur graces the peppermint patch
A lost nail shines white against the backdrop of dead brown leaves
As seasons change while you remain constant
Torn ear twitches and a tail snaps back and forth
To bite and claw….chew and maim
On the outside
Inside, love and sweet singing
Rubs compiled with caresses
Green eyes seek attention and pats on a brutalized head
Insensate purrs fill the room as the smell of wet food permeates the paint
I know you get enough to eat….why do eat the neighborhood?
Roughly slapping above the base of his tail I see and feel a shift
The energy leaves the room and our eyes lock as I have given one too many sweet pats today
In an instant blood pools on my hand
And he is back to purring and eating
Leaving me, once again, free to go clean myself