When he dies, so will I. His laugh, the last thread tangling me here.
I should ptobanly just kill myself to save anyone the horror of my presence.
Everyone thinks I’m a monster they lock me up they poison me they threaten me they judge me they shout they ignore no one loves me except mythical creations buddha and jesus and my kitties
Your teeth are gone and cancer rots your tail, but still you hold yourself a tiger.
I love you too kitty, but when you nibble on my skin, I wonder if you plan to eat me!
Whenever you enter the room, the kitty stops and hides. What does she know that I don’t?
Boise! The air is too dry. City of prunes.
You purr so loudly, the whole bed rumbles. That must have taken years of practice.
The American dream was created to create factory workers. Where do we go from here?
How do we bring meaning into all these people’s lives? Christianity/buddhism works for some. A reversion to gangs/drugs/tribalism for others. Nihilism/cynicism/sickness/death for others. But somehow these all seem short.
It is the modern conundrum and the person who crosses this t will save the world.
Kitty, let’s go on a journey to your tummy. I will scratch you there too.