vivid

Breakfast Scramble

 

Burning
Crispy and flaky
Always screaming
Where does the time run to?
A peel here 
And a scrape there 
Spreading on thin
What seems to accomplish the morning
What can all be put into a little cup
Of happiness? 
NO
Comfort?
NO
But closure; [[end task]]  
We cringe and boil into a frenzy
If motion isn't in our favor
what if we paused for one second
To give the clocks hands a break
So our nucleus can replenish
To Allow cells to renovate the mitochondria  
If we cracked open the shell 
took out the cholesterol 
We could see a more vivid bake 
Flipping and pouring out what contents we wished to have results for 
Pressing down on a home slice
Then buttering em up for the crowd
Pressure makes combustion
Be careful what you steam and strain
You don't want raw
But overcooked is trashy 
Pressure could create a hard soul 
On the other hand
That can't be broken or scathed 
In which were in 50/50 odds 
With our gods 
More or less rips in the seams let in 
Sunlight but also darkness
Fruit ripen then rot when kept away from the world regardless of good or bad company
Rambles scramble lingo into jargon
And Mumbo jumbo into conspiracy 
What we have is
what we got 
But what we want is
what we can make happen 
~~~~~~~

Annie - July 19, 2012

Kept until the age moving is a chore,

you just want to be free again.

Everyday you give but a bit more,

umtil you can no longer refrain.

 

Behavioral changes can be observed,

and inferred the end's coming.

Controversy is to or not to end her,

but in both, deaths call is humming.

 

You've been withered by old age,

your fur more fragile with each breath.

Refused to turn to a new days page,

you deny life, end in watery death.

 

After the end, you're burnt to utter black,

your death sentence now cracked, shatters.

Shoved in a box, dignity you hopelessly lack;

now nothings's left, and now nothing matters.

 

Gone from this world, and never coming back,

but in my mind sits the vivid memory.

Of the one who I miss everyday and night,

my long gone, dead dog, my poor little Annie.