Poor Me

I’d give up every potential love in my life just to have my dogs again. It’s not fair to experience the death of my children before my parents. All the associations I have with love come in 3 or 4-legged forms. Losing my first dog happened 2 weeks after my best friend killed himself. It might be projection but I’m pretty sure the dog’s death was harder to handle. He was younger and less in control of his fate. Wade chose to leave this plane of existence by his own hand. I don’t blame him, I also don’t have to like it.

Ochen died from internal trauma. His guts squeezed through a hole in his diaphragm and then twisted around on themselves. On the outside he had a funny cough. All that hid his trauma was a stoic exterior. That’s something I have, stoicism. No one knows what I’m thinking and I consider it a privilege to maintain. Scaling my walls takes very little effort. I perpetuate an icy exterior and rely on the unappeal for defense. If someone tries to get to know me I usually clam up and wait for them to lose interest. It’s less painful.

Life is short but loneliness makes it feel longer. I’m hiding under the stairs waiting for the adult party to end. When everything is quiet I can sneak out into the dark and scavenge. Tokens and trinkets of the high life, keeping up with the Jones’s keeps you an honest American. Seeing through the vellum, intestines of greed and consumerism writhe within our soul. Skin fried by radiation and bones crumbling beneath the weight of expectation. If I’m special it’s my job to find out about it. Overcoming adversity is a luxury of the poor.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *