Humans are flexible.
We meet the shape of our confines.
We grow to fit
We stretch
We shrink
We can adapt to any situation.
We live in prison.
We live in snow.
We even breathe underwater now.
I often dream I can breathe underwater.
That I figured out how.
Just breathe slowly
That’s all there is to it
Just breathing
Slowly
Is key.
Maybe
If we just breathe slowly
We can survive anywhere.
I didn’t draw tonight! Too too tired.
inside of me is a tiny kitten, shivering
it only eats hugs and chocolate
it must be well fed
it eats every thirty minutes
if it doesn’t get its food
it starts to see monsters
In the shadows on the walls
it shuts its eyes and imagines
and if you let it alone too long
it panics.
here kitty kitty
don’t be scared
these monsters you see
are just your own shadow
this thing with claws
that’s you
this thing with horns
that’s you
this red wall
that’s you
all of it is you
but it’s no use
talking to a kitten
when all it really understands
is hugs and chocolate.
I sat with God and begged him tell me why
The children he professed to love can die.
He said, “your human mind is limited in scope.
You’ll have to take it all on faith and hope.”
I asked him why he gave us little brains
Just strong enough to ask but not contain
The answers to the questions we would seek.
He said, “I’ll get back to you next week.”
I asked him why he we had so little choice.
I asked him why we couldn’t hear his voice.
I asked him why the pumpernickel rye
In my cupboard had to go all dry.
I asked him how, in his omnipotence,
He couldn’t get his people to make sense.
I asked him why the world was such a mess.
He said, “you’ve given me much to address.
I’ll fix it right away. Or in ten years.
Or maybe not at all. Why all the tears?
I am a loving God. I’ve so much love
I crucified my son. He’s dead but fine.
Isn’t it great? You are my children too.
Now I don’t have to do the same to you.
Once you had to smear blood on the door
But you don’t have to kill goats anymore.”
“My God, you wrote these rules,” I said in shock.
“Is blood the only thing you hold in stock?”
But God was getting bored. He waved a hand
And sent me off to join his choir band.
Years of faith and guilt were worth all this.
The streets are paved with gold. A miser’s bliss.
All day we sing our carols to His grace.
It might sound boring, singing in this place.
But praising in His name we are content.
Our wills are His, and He wants compliments.
oh I feel that crazy
a’creepin on me
things are gettin hazy
gettin hard to see
oh I feel that satan
tryna tell me wrong
that fella’s good at talkin
sings a pretty song
oh I feel that hatred
swallowin my guts
fight what’s on the inside
that’s how you go nuts
there’s a way
a door, a door
but I can’t find
the way no more
fuck my inhibitions
fuck my childhood too
fuck my gentle nature
do what sadists do
today we kill
tomorrow we maim
this week we bomb
a people train
let’s be the best
at being worse
we’re nothing but
live liverwurst
to shoot to score
to be a whore
to live to die
don’t fucking cry
it’s only another few days mama
we’ve only got this to behave mama
we can’t escape we are slaves mama
we’re children of angels
cuz angels are good
and angels are bad
and angels are–
I have tools at my disposal
To keep my house happy
Good for trimming overgrowth that presses against the house
Or repairing damage from the environment.
That one is good for sawing down trees that might work their roots under.
This one helps me patch holes in the walls.
This glue prevents things from falling to pieces.
This paint keeps it cheerful and waterproof.
If I spray the house often, I keep the bugs out.
Moisture is inevitable, but it shouldn’t damage,
And it’s most important to keep the bugs out.
Sarah D. Silvey 