i travel along the page
    like i do in my thoughts
          here's a particular one:
              "i sit alone in a cot,
                   breathing air i just bought,
                         crying alone because i sought,
                                   to find the one who explains
                                                        ­               ...apricots"    
oh, it seems that thought
       fell apart at the end there
           but thoughts are slippery
                          and hard to grasp.
                                   let me try again:
                                       "i gasp at the sight
                                             of melancholy fright
                                                    it knows that tonight
                                                         ­       ...i like pink lights"
hmm. strange.
     are these thoughts falling apart,
                or are they just too eccentric
                                for me to understand
...probably the former.

do i have a place
in this house,
in my home?
do i have a face
in your eyes,
in your mind?
we will have a new place
in a moment,
in a week.
but will i still be there
in your thoughts?
maybe not

you can't live your life
using only your left brain
because while your left brain explains things,
nothing will make sense.

you can't live your life
using only your right brain,
because while your right brain takes care of things,
nothing will get done.

A passing                            friend
is bittersweet
because from day one
we are told
all good things
come to an end.

I didn't expect it,
you were so happy
yesterday,                             where
simpler times
rest.

I could have...
been better. I                           did
my best to give you
everything you
deserved.

You made me laugh,                you
silly, silly creature.
Where there was a lack
of communication,
It was made up in
understanding.

And I'll                                         go
back to my life.
At least, I'll try.
But when you made up
its majority,
where do I go back to?

I say "this morning,"
But that would be a lie.
In reality,
It was this afternoon,
Shortly after I had waken up for the day.

I had him for
13 years.
13. The cursed, unlucky number.

I was into Tom and Jerry,
When I was 4.
It was a cartoon series
And it had a dog named spike.

So, we decided,
My dog could have the same name.
He was never more undeserving
Of the scary, tough title.

The first day I saw him,
He peed on my leg.
The adults told me
It meant that he liked me.

He was a sweetheart.
Kind,
Caring,
Silly,
Happy,
Fun,
And everything in between.

He barked at passing strangers,
And licked my wounds.
Soon I learned it wasn't only because
He knew I was in pain,
But because he simply
Liked to lick everything.

He was a rescue.
He wore scars on his thighs,
From fighting to get away
From his past life.
He was two when I was four.
He was thirteen when I, fifteen.

The last day I saw him,
He peed on my leg.
Not out of love,
But because he had a stroke
In my arms.

He died shortly after we drove to the vet.
My father told me to pump his chest.
I cried as he struggled to exhale breaths.
Thirty seconds later,
He stopped struggling.
Thirty minutes later,
We arrived at the vet.

And a part of me thinks,
It is completely my fault.
Because while my dog always knew
When I was in pain,
I failed to see his.

We were a group of four,           where
We always got into trouble,
One way or another.
We could never be...
"The Good Kids"
For lack of a better term.

Something happened,
However,
To the girl of the group.
It's funny, she said she              did
Have a crush on...
You guessed it.
The talented one.

The other thing was,                  she
Was my sister.
And, although I was...
Worried, I suppose,
She never ditched
The rest of us
For him.

What's funny is,
The crazy one,
Was madly in love...
With her.
He's the one
Who gets us into trouble.
He always wants to...               go
Somewhere, do something.

He's also the one,
With a twisted sense of humor.
And, as a joke,
He said with a foolish grin:
"Play this game of roulette
with me, and whoever wins
gets to keep the princess!"        It
was a simple joke, with a
sinister meaning
Behind it.

We weren't Russian, so
Of course the Talented one
Agreed. It                                     was
A foolish thing,
What the crazy one did next,
But he didn't know better.
He pulled out
His father's old dusty revolver,
And shot Mr.Talent,
Aimed at the head.

It didn't go off.
Mr. Crazy was                              just
Dying of laughter at
Mr.Talent's face of shock.
My heart leaped, but
My mind told me the gun
Wasn't loaded.
It couldn't be loaded.
And by how my sister
Was acting,
She had come to the
Same conclusion.

Then, Mr.Crazy
Shot himself in the head.
It didn't go off, don't worry,
But then he opened the gun,
And let a single bullet fall
To the yellow grass.
He fumed.                                       A
Grasshopper jumped onto
The bullet and quickly
Fled as Mr.Crazy sighed.

"Well, that was no good.
A boring                                        joke,
That was!" He chuckled.
Us three, we were in shock.
Once again.
"How could you do that?"
Mr.Talent screamed while
My sister stared at the bullet
In horror.

Years later,
My sister ditched her
Husband, Mr.Talent,
For the exciting...
Mr.Crazy. I was...
Surprised.                                   I'm
Still surprised.
We were growing apart,
At this time.
I even lost contact
With her.
And Mr.Talent...
Attempted suicide.
With the old revolver.
I don't know how
He got it.
He left a note,
Saying he was                          sorry
To her, and to him,
And to me.

I stayed with him,
As much as I could.
My sister never made
An appearance.                         I'm
Still shocked at that.
Mr.Crazy only returned
To take his gun back.

And, eventually,
Mr.Talent fell into
The only support he could
Find, besides me.
That, was fame. I was                  Not
Surprised, then.

He pushed me away,
Saying he didn't need me.
Which, was a big, fat,
Lie, but at the time,
He convinced me otherwise.
I was moving, and I was             A
Little too far away to
Keep going to his place,
So I did what he wanted,
And stayed away.

The results weren't...                     good.
Reports of him being
Hospitalized, everywhere
I look. I didn't understand
How he didn't die, then.
I do now, but
That's another story.
Every                                                     person
Who knew I knew him would
Talk to me about
Going back to see him.
But I knew the journey
Would be empty.
So, I didn't.

And, as a reward for
Waiting, I suppose,
I was once again invited back
To his friendship.
The next day,
He died.

YOU
CANNOT
ESCAPE
WHAT YOU
MUST FACE.

but, shhh,
ill tell you a secret
you could run away forever,
                                                   and ever,
and never look back

YOU
ARE
SUFFOCATING
                               SUFFOCATING
SUFFOCATING
IN THE THINGS
YOU CANNOT CHANGE.

don't cry, sour child,
you can go away
there is an escape
e s c a p e is what we do, you see,
if you want to do just that,
come with m-

THERE IS NO ESCAPE.
UNLESS YOU WANT TO BE SEEN AS
COWARDLY
SELFISH
AND PITIED UPON.

sooooooo... shh...
what will even c h a n g e?
what a strange word, it either never seems to happen,
or it happens too much.
but there is an e s c a p e, you see,
come with me-

FACE ME.
come with me-
FACE ME.
come with me~
FACE ME.
you can't win~
YOU CAN'T WIN.
you can't win~
YOU CAN'T WIN.

Oh, yes, yes, I can.
...Right?