Dear dog:
it may be suggested
I write on paper of rice
the better to be digested
since your critique's so nice

I notice you baulked at the stamp.
Should I enclose a bone with future submissions
begged from my midnight lamp?

I suppose it could have been worse,
at least the dog has devoured my verse!

Rain
Pour down upon me
Fill my nose with your scent
My eyes with your cascading droplets
My ears with your pitter-patter
My hands filling to become small pools
My mouth with your refreshing and cool take-over

Calm me
Then release me
Make me wild
Laughter erupting from deep within
Fondness

O, what a wonder!
O, what a blissful time!

Bring me life
Make me anew

- Jay M
October 22nd, 2019

I take a bite.
The taste, it's sweet.
The texture, it's crisp.
I take another bite.
The taste, it's grand.
The texture, it's great.
I take a third bite.
The taste, it's old.
The texture, it's the same.
I take one last bite.
The taste, it's gone.
The texture, it's nonexistent.
Why do I do this to myself?
I guess that's just the way the cookie crumbles.

The radio
plays a different song
depending on your mood.
So I make you turn sour grapes
and suddenly Jimmy Eats World
hits the speakers.

I wait; nothing great ever happens.
Blame it on me,
as I drive under the tunnel.
You put the window down,
light a cigarette, and tell me,
"I put my soul into this art ****."

I don't know how to respond
to that statement, so I keep driving.
The smoke leaks out,
covering the night like a quilt.
You ask me, "Where'd you leave the drugs?"

I don't respond.
Tap my shoulder until I twitch
and say, "Cut it out."
But this time, you open the door,
step out to the road,
and ditch me to go watch "La La Land"
with your ex.

I go home and make a tuna melt.
The sunlight is fading and nothing
good is playing on TV.
The couch pulls out into a bed
and there I shut my eyes.

And I tumble into dreams,
dreams where you exist
to hold me up,
instead
of pulling me down.

Perhaps we are
married far to long.
The words have all been said?
Have I become the furniture.
Or
Has it become me?
I offer you an apple
For dessert.
It is sweet and ripe
It's juices flow like the
Apple within the garden of Eden.
They will flow down your face
drenched in sweetness.
But you hold it like a stone.
Even as I look to the blue sky.
An ocean for the
white shape shifting
clouds that hold
no rain in their silence.
I see them fascinated
by me in a language
that needs no words.
In their silence
they say everything
I want to say?

Meat
Beats on the
Seat when I lift my
Feet

Was sitting on a chair and dreaming,
that I'd go out someday for fishing, again.
This world had us like a satan.
We miss everything that is going.