There is a hole now.
Not torn, not ripped
but hollowed.
Like wind wore down the center of me
with soft, persistent cruelty.
No thunderclap,
just the slow erosion
of something that once stood watch.
You were barely more than breath,
a flicker in the straw,
a warm weight that made morning feel
intentional.
And I
the one who named myself protector
looked away.
That is all it took.
One glance elsewhere,
and the universe took back its loan.
I did not cry out when it happened.
There was no sound left in me.
Only the sick realization
that absence has a shape.
That love leaves residue.
That I was the architect of your undoing.
Now the days come blank.
Food tastes like guilt.
The sky is heavy with things I cannot fix.
My hands. these hands
they shake, not from fear,
but from knowing they could have stopped it.
How many heartbeats have passed
since yours didn’t?
Time moves, but I do not follow.
I sit within the rift,
counting all the ways I failed you
a thousand imagined rescues
playing out too late,
too slow.
There is no metaphor here.
No phoenix in the ashes.
Just me,
and the grave I dug
with the illusion of safety.
Hope feels obscene now,
as if it doesn’t remember
who you were.
And I am tired.
So deeply tired.
Because to love something,
and then lose it
to your own neglect,
is to live each moment afterward
as punishment.

my cat is crying,
crying still, and always loud.
his mouth is grief incarnate.
what name could hold you,
you feathered fury,
you opera of complaint.

We all need someone.
When we just feel done.
When we are left with no one.
When there’s no one left.
When I’m upset,
I turn to my pet.
My bunny, always stays.
Beside me and lays.
Comforting me through the days.
Looks up into my eye.
Whenever I cry,
Till my eyes dry.

Cirrus

You are not just a cat,
but a cloud come to rest
in a shape, soft and breathing.
Wind-white fur and sky-colored eyes—
A silver lining
with paws.

T knows you disappear sometimes.
Slipping into the folds of the house
Or sneaking through the grass,

The temperature changes when clouds disappear
And the rooms remember what they’re missing.
You vanish just long enough
to teach the joy of your return.

And maybe you do it on purpose—
not to worry him,
but because you know,
That something loved, thats lost, then found—
Is held more dearly and close
Than something never lost at all

But Cirrus,
you should know
you have been the storm at the center of a heart
that never stops checking the weather.
And there's no magic or disappearing act
That could make you more adored

So hide and reappear,
ghost and glide,
cloud and curl beside him at night.
For even when you're out of sight,
you are never out of love.

We just got a new mutt pup.
A cross between
A Peesaspleases and a Shitzoncue.
They aren't rare.

I walk the dog
after he's done
with his dog affairs
I walk back home
go to the kitchen
and give him water and dry food
he starts eating.

Then I head to the balcony
and do the same
to my bunny
as he hops back and forth
until I feed him.

Then I feed the hedgehog
(wherever that antisocial
ball of ***** spikes is hiding)
I never see him.
I only see trails of ****
and empty bowls.
then I feed the hamsters
and circle back to the kitchen
and it commences:

      oin oin oin oin oin oin oin
                          oin oin oin oin oin oin
     oin oin oin oin                                
                             ­       oin oin oin oin oin
                  oin oin oin oin oin oin

"So you ignore me all day
and then cry
when you crave
veggies, huh?"

oin oin oin oin oin oin o—
"alright, alright!"

I grab his bowl
clean it as best as I can
as he continues to cry
in the back ground.
I sprinkle some salad
and wild arugula in his bowl,
grab a knife
curve my fingers,
slice some cucumber,
and dice some
green pimento
and shove it all in.

oin oin oin oin oin oin —
" I heard you the first time, *******!"

I go up to his cage
and there he is.
holding the bars
still crying for veggies
I place the bowl
inside the cage and he bolts
towards the veggies,
and finally shuts the **** up.

If I knew a Guinea pig
would be this demanding
I would've taken my driver's license,
quit my job, find another one,
got to a bar, have a pint,
smoke a cigarette, join a band,
write a novel, ****** someone
and burry the dead body
somewhere those **** cries
would never reach me
even if their cute.