a series of clenches/releases
an anthology of commonplace mistakes being made for no reason in particular
another organism taking up space in style
learning to love yourself in the worst of all possible worlds

truth and the pain inherent
where im from, there is no such thing
in my foxhole there are no flashing lights
no car horns, no moving images on screens, no sales pitches
only fur covered bodies huddled together for warmth

half truths and considerate lies
where i go at night, we spend our evenings in silence
concerning ourselves mostly with ritual groomings, conserving energy
temporarily afforded the luxury of stillness
a warm moist musk hangs thick in the air

im not sure if i actually have any friends
but in my den
we lick each others wounds
all the while no words pass our lips
our bond is eternal
we poop in the corner, no plumbing necessary

one day, i will get hit by a car
or die of cancer
but ive seen my brothers and sisters ripped to pieces
one day i will be too
and im pretty much fine with that