Categories
Poetry Thirsty Thursday

Thirsty Thursday | How love was the end of the Pillsbury Doughboy

(His last words)


I feel gooey inside
I mean more than usual
I think my insides are melting

something warm is happening in my heart
it’s making a bubble 
something’s about to pop

this really doesn’t feel quite right
I think I’m rising from the inside out
the heat supposed to be external

but this is gutting me
tearing me apart

hot bit by bit expanding

and do you see this bulge here?
no! not my stomach!

hoo-hoo!! 

don’t poke me at a time like this —
can’t you see I’m in pain?

oh! dire pain!

being wrenched apart
baked wrong side out

surely this isn’t in the directions —
can we trouble shoot?

something’s happening to my throat
the words aren’t 
                coming out good
no more
ooey gooey heart 
hoo-hooo


Okay… so this isn’t the thirstiest. x.x but can you picture that it probably isn’t Mrs. Poppie Fresh Pillsbury Doughboy doing it for him. 😉

You might not need a tall glass of water, but perhaps a cold glass of milk and a hot, soft chocolate chip cookie would satisfy you.

Categories
Love Letters Poetry Thirsty Thursday

Homesick | Letter 6

[The Letter Your Ex is Never Going to Send]


Though recently I cursed your name
Your scent, your breath, a stink, a stain
Your touch, your feel, a pin, a prick
Yet in my mind, you stay, you stick

You’re fastened here, you linger near
As if you’re tacked, taped, adhered
Permanently welded there inside my head
Yet rarely now I wish you harm or dead

You simply appear as though invited for tea
It just happens quite naturally
And then I think…I want to come home
No matter that I’d longed to roam

I’d yearned to uproot myself to find
A freedom I could never buy
I’d have to fight and from that I’d shied
For my courage has not your span, nor stride

When I was lost, I saw your face
It ‘peared before my resting place
Before I netflixed, before I chilled
I’d see you there, and my heart stilled

But you’d dissolve with phantom grace
Leaving me grasping at empty space
Thinking, lingering nostalgic syndrome
Please, my love, can I come home?

I wish I did well on my own
When lonesome time and tears have shown
I simply do not enjoy hollow life
Knowing I gave up love, compassion, kindness, a wife

Someone, I thought, is all I need
To walk the forest trails with me
Perhaps keep me warm on winter’s night
Whom I can pleasure and give delight

Now the nights are long and cold
And though I’m young, I’m feeling old
I’m feeling lost, can I come home?
I don’t like life in monochrome

I miss your colour, I miss your zest
You weren’t unstable, you’re simply best
To think I’d thought you like the rest
To think I’d sabotaged your jest

Now when life is cold and grey
Like on this rainy winter’s day
My mind takes me for that trip
That makes me miss your leadership

I know I should seek happiness and peace
Plan my life, find new love, sign the lease
Still though I dream of travel, Paris, Rome
Mostly, I wish I could come home

Love,
A Dumb Fuck


Categories
Saturday Expressions Visual Artwork

Humble Beginnings | Session 4

Picture of friend Jessica, 1995

There was no way to foresee artistic talent in my future. But I think you can see the creativity.

“My whale is swimming. “

And a love of purple I didn’t know I had for almost 20 years.

“I made a ghost.”

Happy Weekend!