The Dogs Shit Just As Much
I told them all, at some point, that I was getting better.
Shaking the deep down crazies –
condition creating
free
fall
fixations.
I removed myself from the soil
– formerly a dandelion among common weeds –
But worms still lick at my roots.
Children still pick at my stem.
Dogs shit just as much.
Owls still demand names
(they just quiet down at dawn)
I wish you’d found me in better days
when smiles plagued my ambition
and I felt safe outside my mother’s hug.
and no matter how many times I say it,
I’m not getting better.
My heart lays in bed and demands breakfast.
