There’s this constant ticking I can’t get out of my head.
A ticking that, when I think about it, it just gets louder.
It just gets stronger. Louder, stronger…faster.
An obsession of sorts, maybe a craving.
Yes, yes, that’s it, a craving – tick, tick, tick.
A nervous tick, a constant tick, quite frankly a distracting tick.
I don’t know where I found you, tick, but I can't get enough.


I was sitting in my car just the other day.
For a minute, my head went silent.
For a second, I was at peace.
But then you passed by and
my stomach turned, butterflies.
Then more of the same -
tick, tick, tick.

I was walking minding my own business by myself
when an old friend of mine walked up next to me
and handed me the screwdriver that he had borrowed
from the person that I had lent my screwdriver too –
such a strange time for my screwdriver to be returned
and my friend clearly saw the confusion on my face
so he offered a weak smile and told me that my screwdriver
may come in handy and once again he saw the confusion
on my face since my city is safe or so it says in the papers
why would I need my screwdriver on my walk by myself

I like that you like
raspberries and that your
cheeks get red on a cold
May night sitting by the fire
so warm and the wind so strong.
Lots of different temperatures
affecting my mood and my maturity.
You had that green
rain coat keeping you cozy
as I dreamt of my covers and of you.

Man in the subway
do you have a purpose
is it to make music
or to make others sing
the song of the subway as
the trains screech by

everyone
ignores you completely
throwing money proportionally
into your jar based
on their income and
more importantly
based on their morals.

Couldn’t we have gone to the zoo
just one more time, on another
lazy afternoon by ourselves

and couldn’t we stop by the
polar bear tank for a few minutes
longer than the seals because you knew
they were my favorite

couldn’t we take a picture,
couldn’t we upload them

I still see his strong paws
lifting him effortlessly out
of the manmade lake which
is supposed to make him feel
like he’s home.

I went to this funeral the other day
and had a blast, the black suits
contrasting the pale faces of those shocked
by death, meshing with the warm
red of crying eyes. Hot sun flashed
through the stained glass
illuminating the carefully chosen
mahogany bed where the lucky one
slept.  I cannot picture
a more beautiful scene.

And it only gets better! Family
coming together, joined with emotion,
seeing old friends and meeting new ones
The young and the old
both dressed in Sunday’s best
captures a timeless cycle.
What is there not to love?

My funeral is going to be
the best. Come one, come all –
everyone’s invited! The low hum
of the cellos creates an ominous
tone overpowering the occasional
sad sniff, thankfully.
Stop crying you pathetic things
and come laugh with me.