My Truth

The cat is driving me crazy.
If only he would stop attacking the bunny,
and stop going for sprints at 4 am.

Oh, and it would help if my feet didn't feel like a bedouin's.
I wonder, do they feel that way about walking eternally?
Or maybe, it's a pleasure for them, and it's not an issue.

If only.

The Portuguese dog chases the red car.
As nasty as he is, he smells good.

The billygoat is scruffy-gruffy.
He smokes cannabis from wake to doze.
He reminds me of ADHD kid I used to know in my youth.

Lumps in my neck have caused me to drink a mysterious concoctions,
given to me by a Chinese witch doctor.
Okay, he's not really a witch doctor,
but he might as well be.

He looked over his prescription,
counting numbers in his head.
His wrist does loop-de-loops,
waiting for a witchy sign to add another foul-tasting ingredient.

The concoction is first tangy.
It almost has a candy bite.
But then the sweet is gone, and you're left with
BITTERNESS.

My masseuse is going through a divorce.
Our sessions have changed,
He talks less,
and presses much harder,
and in the same place.

I love this, and hate this all at the same time.