I was looking at my fish today
And couldn't help but wonder
"Is he lonely?"

That's silly, of course,
Can fish even get lonely?
Sure, he's swimming in that huge tank,
Back and forth and back and forth
All hours of the day,
Entirely by himself,
His only company the algae hugging
The over sized and over-exaggerated rocks,
But can he be lonely?

Do fish have thoughts?
Does he swim back and forth
And back and forth
Wondering when the glass will tap
And flakes of food
Float down from some gleaming world above,
With nothing but fish-thoughts
Running through his fish brain,
Contemplating his existence:
Why is he here?
As a trophy?
As a center piece to give simple aesthetic to the room?
Is that all he is?
Aesthetic?

When he dies,
What will be remembered of him
Other than being flushed down into the sewers,
And replaced by yet another
Extremely unextraordinary fish?

But still, is he lonely?
Surely, as am I, he must be something,
Because maybe we are both here just for the aesthetic of being alive,
Swimming back and forth
And back and forth
With of fish thoughts
Waiting for nothing more than to be fed.

The frigid sigh of winter
Has all but passed,
But it is the rust behind my eyelids
And the slush in my head
That keeps my window open
And chills me so.

While my body bathed
In the awful waves of
Aching, numbing sand baths,
She reminded me that there's
A whole wide ocean out there,

And I need to worry nothing
When her velvet covered arms
Held my head,
Sang me to sleep,
And let me drift away
To some other day,
Perfectly in between
Never knowing
And knowing she'd make it all okay.

Does the moon look at
Oceans and wonder if they
Sigh at sight with love?

Her house was always
Cold, like someone had broken
A window, and left.

The war in my head
Rages, like: "De-Dun, De-Dun",
And I'm not winning

I can't stop finding
Her amber hair everywhere-
She's been gone years now.