Who is this person that I’m living alongside;
I don’t mean my girl; I mean myself.
Is there an alter with impeccable timing to hide;
a thought I think and feeling I’ve always felt.

She digs her hands into my armored flesh,
the areas I reassured could pass each test.
Instead of titanium she sees it’s made of mesh,
“I’m sorry that I’m not the best of best.”
We watched our house burn down
watched the last ember hit the ground.
I place missing posters of myself around town;
truth is I don’t care if I get found.

“A pox on your house,
you ****** knockout mouse.”
On your clean white blouse;
gasoline has been doused.
I wrongly take the blame,
and they keep saying it’s my name.
Isn’t it a shame how bad blood boils all the same?

Sometimes I feel like I’m presented as an open book,
with torn out pages and a cracked spine.
On full display but no one even stops to take a look,
missing the hidden message in each line.

We shoot the **** so incredibly breezily
but I’m reminded that I bruise very easily,
so I find a way to tap out without anyone noticing.
But it’s done just too feebly.
Burned bridges and scorched earth,
my decision to cover with AstroTurf.
Taking lives instead of giving birth,
and I’ll only strive to make it worse.

“A pox on your house,
you ****** knockout mouse.”
“The screams and the shouts
show us what you’re about.”
The beast I try to tame,
but can hardly even maim.
Isn’t it a shame how bad blood boils all the same?

I have this habit of never learning my lesson
and sometimes almost crashing my car.
It’d be tragic or it could be a hidden blessin’
what’s another addition of a scar?

“A pox on your house,
you ****** knockout mouse”
“We’ll turn you into scouse,
you ****** knockout mouse.”
“A pox on your house,
but not on your spouse.”
At least they aren’t that rouse.

“A pox on your house,
you ****** knockout mouse.”
On your clean white blouse;
gasoline has been doused.
I wrongly take the blame,
and they keep saying it’s my name.
Isn’t it a shame how bad blood boils all the same?

The cats suspect that there’s a mouse
I think at first, a catnip toy…
The black cat sees the toy and grins…
And bats a mouse that rolls, then runs… then rolls again… and then
   they run
Behind a chair… The cat appears… and there’s the mouse,
He has it hanging from his mouth,
He puts it down… he has it pinned…
And then I see it run again.

I’m kind of sorry for the mouse, but after, all this is our house,
And cats see mice as natural prey. They really should just stay away
And learn to cope with life outside. But since it pressed its luck
   within,
I’m rooting for our cat to win.

Another chase, another pin… completely still…is this the end?
Well, no… he lets it go again.
The mouse heads for the cellar door, there’s safety on the basement floor
A blocking move! As good as dead? Another joke…the mouse has
   fled.
The cats give chase, but that’s the end. The mouse is hiding out again.

I notice that no blood’s been shed. Perhaps because the cat’s well fed,
The claws that tear cat toys to shreds have not appeared to slash his
   prey.
I guess that’s for another day, the drama here was just some play,
But now the traps are on the way.

In the dark typhoon, swayed a dark dark house.
In the dark monsoon, flew the dark dark mouse.
Below dark dark clouds, people scream and shout,
And by the 12th hour, noon, is when the Sun comes out.

In the light, you see rubble, and the people all dead.
On a tree that had fallen, lies a small mouse head.
Through the wind left behind, you hear what the house said
As its boards were all torn from beneath its beds.

You hear the creaking and wailing of nails, screws, and springs
Which escape from their places, among other things.
They escape through the windows, and break their panes too,
And as the whistling fell silent,
All left now,
Is you.

among all the fears there sleeps a bear
who’s paws are soft and hair is fair
afraid to wake and arouse a tear
there sleeps a mouse by claws so near
between the two there’s an open space
where chivalry and strength find a place
among hope and a dream it will lay
till mice find courage and get away

The past
always seems
To chase after us
When I choose to lie
I've learned to never
Let it go any further
If I know
I did something
That I'm accused of
I confess

I don't want to play
Cat and mouse
Delaying the inevitable
Is the worst game
You can play
And never win

If I did it
Then I did it
And that's all
There is to it

'Twas brillig, when the wee sleek beasty
Did gyre and gimble in my fields
And ach! I feel but naught, but sadness
Plowing his home and stealing his meals

black cats hunting mice
on a concrete alley --
   night sight revealed

he was more of a friend than a pet
a modest, ugly thing
with three souls bound by skin & fur

i’ve never known a mouse to be a functional addict
and i’ve known a mouse or two

he monologued with clever prose
about the impermanence of materialism
and with a deep, angry, disappointment
whenever he saw an empty parking lot

and with reverence regarding the flower that grows through asphalt

you could call the thimbles of ******* he travelled with
cute

most times i listened to him in
silence

when the air was right i would speak as he spoke
identically

he was more of a brother now that i think about it
a shy, talkative sibling
who gave his heart away as quickly as he could

i’ve never known a mouse that cared so much for the world
and so little for himself

🐭🧀

I am a mouse tempted by scent of cheese,

                                                        ­      I am a little lever,
                                                    by wightish weight released.

                                                                     I am the
                                                          daring
                                             domino,

         Tip me over and off I go,

Tapping-time-toppling
                                        just as mapped,

                                                       Chain reactions
                                                                ­               crashing
                                                                ­                          choreographed.

                                                 ­               I am the ball bearing on its
                                                                ­                                     tilted track,

                                                         ­            Precariously poised
                                                                ­    awaiting that last flat

                                                               ­               CRACK!

                                                       ­    Startling astart at starting gun,

Gravity-well-willing I wobbly-spin-roll-run,

                                          ­                Back and forth I wander like a top,

Dizzily confused when off the end I
                                                                ­     plop.

                                                  It's alright, everyone, I'm okay,

This cup was here to catch me...              luckily.

                                                  Ah, I'm the cup too, of course,

                                      Rattling 'round rampant without remorse.

                              It's not a problem, I've already served my purpose,

                                  Ball-bearing-brained, I was useful for impetus.

                                  Downward-driven delivering incidental dues,

                         I am now the toy robot set off on a cruise,

               Wheels turning, less one brain (lest I hurt myself)

        Wound-up tight only to travel the length of a shelf.

Gears ground, I spark-stumble-halt,

      I've kicked the bucket, but it's nobodies fault:

                I'm also the water cascading through air,

                                                           ­   Splashing happily,
                                                        but predictably,
                                                   to be fair.

                            Sloppily graceful I stick the landing,

Releasing the cage, design-demanding.

                      Mouse
                       lever
                     domino
                        ball
                        cup
 ­                      robot
                      water
                       cage

I might even be the little mouses tiny outrage.

It seems I was all the pieces of the trap I set,

Honestly, everything fits just fine, except:

We seem to be missing one of the architects.