I feel
        Free
                Elated
                          Happy

For the first time in
                                Days
                                         Months
                                                     Years

And I think I like it enough to stay that way

What has made me feel this way?

I do not know

Probably all of the pills

But it doesn't matter because

I'm happy

He is my least favorite vegetable.
                                                   
                       No amount or level of preparation makes him taste better:
Boiling-
brings out his bulbous, insipid ego
the texture of his flamboyant ignorance.

when I timorously sip him in soups or broths,
his oozing insidious misogyny
contaminates my blissful dining, contorts any ingredients still pure.

I fry him, striving to remove the  
excess of impertinence which
permeates the oxygen I feebly inhale.
but he evades my maneuvers:
usurps bliss and violates all semblance of tranquility

I cannot prevail
against the throb of his assaulting narcissism

I must instead attempt
to comment
(arduously, fraudulently)
on the delicate iridescence of his silkily mucoused membranes
and admire deftly
his indefatigable ventures to pervade my
every.
serenity.

Dear Best friend.
                       I cried today.
Not because you left me dancing in
                another hemisphere.
Not because I receive one paragraph
       of sparse-nothing information
                   from you a week.

Nay-

I cried because
you are the kind of best friend
who wafts beside me
                                                                            (like that time we led each other with our eyes
                                                                                                                             closed through the
                                                                                        crowded theme park-full of nonchalant
                                                                                                                        cotton-candy-people)
in all my sly, lively moments
and exerts more merry influence upon my wanderings
than all the other

7 billions souls on this               [The Foolish Blue Globe]
put together.

Oh darling.
Oh darling!
Help knot this noose.
Spill out the contractors spindled spew.

My leash is as tethered as my thoughts.
Kick the stool angled foot
Remove tension,
don't slack.

I've decided I just don't want to keep my thoughts inside.
They aren't always sane,
but have tendencies to seek the "in."

My departure welcomes the cold and bitter.
As the winter.
To which the tree holds the sight of.
Chlorophyll picked away from leaves
to fulfill a coming life.
I will restore the color back in the splintered rings held inside.

This withered branch; my neck.
Ready to untwine
From burdening weight balanced on my spine.
SNAP!

Fingers snap to my fall.
4 counts per measure
Each conducted with quietus posture.
A contortionist to the meaning of nurture.

Oh you
Oh darling
Oh me, oh my.
Hanging from this tree oh why says I.

Do I have to die?
Oh right,
NO! Wrong let's lie in light.

That tree giving color,
given hope.
Painted again by my deaths brush stroke.

What I thought would be so warm and welcoming...
Is only what I had before...
Nothing.