I never trusted that warmth in your tank.
I've always smelled something fishy
About the hot moisture on the glass
And how the water is close to boiling,
Since it's coming from this hell
Where monsters share the night
And leave you waiting til the sun
Rises to scare them to their hideouts.
And I almost caught it red-handed,
'Cause now that warmth is gone
And suddenly you're so cold,
Not the kind of cold
That drips on my palms
When I take you right from the water
To let you play in my hands
And you would find a hole to creep out of
And try to fly
As if this whole world
Is your own ocean.
Now it's the kind of cold
That no longer crawls and squirms
To escape from me,
'Cause you've already found the way out.
And you even left the doors open
As your empty eyes stare at me.
You won't look around now,
Just when you've decided to open your eyes more.
I can no longer see you,
Just when you've decided not to hide in your shell anymore.
But it wasn't that warmth after all.
It was the warmth that wasn't there
When you needed it the most.
And it's such a shame the turtle sticks came too late
And they were no longer enough
To keep you wanting to be home with me.
But they still were no later than my sorry
And bathroom-borne sobs
Which you won't be able to hear anymore,
Or even understand.
And the green in the portrait I made of you,
The pixels of your images,
And your shy face on my desktop,
Can never be as alive as you once were.
But you just can't
Let me place you in this jar
I labeled 'good days,'
Pour over some sand,
And keep you there and wait
Until there finally is a place that we can call ours,
Where our remains won't be called tenants.
Darling, why now?
You will still need a bigger tank,
You will still grow up with me,
You will still marry Shelly,
If ever she makes it.
God, let her make it.
You can't be gone now,
You just can't.
I haven't even finished our song yet.
Will you really leave me here,
Writing songs about valuables I lost,
People I sent away,
And every living that died at my feet?
I guess you will
But I just can't get used to it,
Nor do I want to get used to this;
To have to get up
But not want to wake up
And attend every tragedy
As if I were death's representative.

No guessing where dat
accent is coming from?

Well, you are right, tis
Irish indeed.

Why would you be tinking
i'd be from anywhere else.

Sure here I am in the
County of Cork

at Mallow on the river
Blackwater,

waiting for the Turty
Second!

That'll be the udder 6
counties + our own 26.

Oh, by the way, this is
my New Years Wish!

Sleep well, my darling.
Everything is all better now.
Good as new.
Good as before;
Before I came along
And took you with me
To this hard life
I thought we can get through.
But never mind that now,
I can manage from here.
After all, this is my mess.
I can clean it up
As *****-and-span
as I do your aquarium.
Come along now,
It's time to go inside
Your final jar-home
Where your groom-to-be awaits
To spend with you an everlasting paradise,
Apart from the tragedy in that tank.
Tell Turty I said hi, okay?
For the meantime,
I will keep this reality
With me
Where it can no longer
Let something die
Over and over again.
Goodbye,
Your real owner awaits you.
But please don't forget to
Visit your mother in her dreams
Sometime.

.                         H


There is a goalpost in the English
    alphabet which has historically
posed a great challenge to the Irish.

Try as they will, but they can never
actually succeed in the conversion,
  even from the turty tree yard line.