Nice to see you.



Really.


It is.
Good.

To see you.

To hear you rustle the ground.


               smell what you were eating for lunch



taste your sorrows

the salt
tastes like cat food to me.


I'm not mad
I'm just glad to see you safe.
Sad to see you go, of course, of course.
I hope that doesn't seem coarse, of course
everything sad runs its course, of corse  

but no

Don't fall in love with a farmer.
You'll never surpass her horse.

Never enamor a catgirl.
You'll only eat tuna or worse.
..
no further questions.



Mad at this world of hard-backed chairs,
claw-footed,
  unbending,

Impending toe stubs every time that I get up.
Bruises where love left me rained on to rust.
Beautiful blue maroon yellow half moons
on my rib cage
Many noons overhead have burned tunes in my head that I sung and I bled to commune with the dead at the tombstone I'm led to the old riverbed
still to this day

there's a hole in the ground where you bury a body and
             a home in the sound of you carrying all my
                                                                ­            unease.

Please
don't
get
up.

I am swiss cheese.
Pain floats through me
and onto the breeze.


I will sit and eat this plain tuna bowl
because I need to complete a macronutrient profile
I looked up on the internet
how to make this temple
   a place where people will come to pray
  and play
and stay for longer than
a fortnite


Tastes like freedom.
Tastes like kibbles.


There's a pretty lass next door
who tastes like tears

And the sound of a breeze blowing through a hole in my wall.


Without hole,
how finish bowl?

Frame hole.
New role.

A door, for the strays
A fine feast of fish.
Dinner is dished.

Dinner for kin.
Home again.

how will my family know when to come in