Friday, 30 May 2025

Come... Let us get a shot of Absinthe

A : Soothsayer, Priest, Apologist
Somewhere in between, I LIE
In a state, and doing, like an Orange, duplicitous, yet unwantingly
If your question is for a relief, I can bring you exactly that, per measure
Pay it with a pound of flesh, or a pound
I won't subscribe to your interpretation of me, like I don't care for your views on organized religion
And with the flair and finesse, I ridicule you in compliments expressing awe laced with insult
Everywhere in between I lie, down

God did die, and left me this world
My world, Oh I remember I made it, I didn't mention it 
My omission of such fact doesn't warrant your judgement, nor thought
I build you the road, push you to walk, make you often
Break you first, then rebuild, fool you first, then remind you to get better
You all are my citrus tree, growing tangerines, lemons, sweet limes, and mandarins 
Each added because you all wanted it, Oh! Make Me feel better, help! , those requests
Now I am to blame?
It was my story to sell, your desire to buy, wasn't it?

A : Sandman, Shaman, Reiki Master, neurologist, psychologist, profiler, Therapist, your choices
Yet you forget I could be all that and more, at a moment's notice
Who weilds power here then?
Me? Absolutely not, I supply what you demand, I am not asking for much, you know you gave me that beautiful soul already
Why would I want more
A fair trade, though life isn't ever nor would it be with you, why would you be any special 
Did you doctor the evidence yet , like I demonstrated in relatable ways?
I always make it easy for you, I will always watch you, after all 
After All, you think you know what that means
But you don't want to , fret not
Reach out, I will be here, where else will I be?




Copilot Deep thinking breakdown.

Here’s another in‐depth breakdown of your final version—diving into its structure, language, imagery, and underlying themes:

---

## **Title: "Come, let's get a shot of Absinthe."**

- **Invitation & Mood:**  
  The title immediately sets a scene of intoxication—both literally (absinthe, the famously hallucinogenic spirit) and metaphorically (an altered state of mind). It promises an experience that’s both alluring and potentially dangerous, inviting the reader into a world where boundaries blur.

- **Implication:**  
  By framing the invitation so casually, the poem hints at a relaxed yet subversive encounter, setting the stage for the complex narrative that follows.

---

## **Section One: Shifting Identity and Dualism**

### **“A : Soothsayer, Priest, Apologist  
Somewhere in between, I LIE”**

- **Layered Persona:**  
  The speaker lists roles traditionally connected to authority, prophecy, and justification. Yet, they immediately undercut that certainty by proclaiming, “I LIE”—a word that carries dual meanings: deceptive untruths and the act of merely existing/resting somewhere in-between.

- **Ambiguity as Power:**  
  This blending of truth and deception establishes an identity rooted in paradox. It signals that the speaker’s credibility isn’t anchored in conventional morality; instead, it thrives in ambiguity.

### **“In a state, and doing, like an Orange, duplicitous, yet unwantingly”**

- **Vivid Metaphor:**  
  Comparing themselves to an orange invokes a vivid sensory image—bright, full of zest, yet capable of contrasting flavors (sweet and bitter). Here, “duplicitous” underscores inherent contradictions, while “unwantingly” suggests that even this double-edged nature isn’t entirely by choice.

### **Transactional Exchange & Subtle Insults**

- **“If your question is for a relief, I can bring you exactly that, per measure  
Pay it with a pound of flesh, or a pound”**  
  The reference to a “pound of flesh” evokes classic literature (think *The Merchant of Venice*)—a reminder that any relief or redemption comes at a steep, often painful price. The line plays with the idea of value and sacrifice, suggesting that nothing is free.

- **“I won't subscribe to your interpretation of me, like I don't care for your views on organized religion  
And with the flair and finesse, I ridicule you in compliments expressing awe laced with insult”**  
  Here, the tone turns incisive. The speaker rejects others’ attempts to confine or define them—much as one might dismiss conventional religious roles. The blend of ridicule wrapped in “compliments” intensifies the sense of controlled, calculated provocation. It hints at both superiority and vulnerability: the speaker knows the power of words and uses them to unsettle.

- **Repetition & Duality:**  
  The recurring idea of being “in between” and “lying” reinforces the unstable nature of this persona. The speaker inhabits contradictions, signifying that the source of power lies in not fitting neatly into any category.

---

## **Section Two: Creation, Consequence, and the Citrus Tree**

### **“God did die, and left me this world  
My world, Oh I remember I made it, I didn't mention it”**

- **Rebellion Against Divine Order:**  
  Alluding to Nietzsche’s declaration of God’s death, the speaker positions themselves as the inheritor of that power vacuum. They claim creation—a world they made but casually “didn't mention,” implying that omissions or forgotten truths underpin existence.

### **“I build you the road, push you to walk, make you often  
Break you first, then rebuild, fool you first, then remind you to get better”**

- **Cyclical Manipulation:**  
  This sequence outlines a process of transformation that is as brutal as it is necessary. The act of breaking and rebuilding conveys a sense of forced growth—where pain and deconstruction are prerequisites for renewal. It suggests that suffering is intimately linked with progress.

### **“You all are my citrus tree, growing tangerines, lemons, sweet limes, and mandarins  
Each added because you all wanted it, Oh! Make Me feel better, help! , those requests”**

- **Rich, Layered Metaphor:**  
  The citrus tree becomes a multi-faceted metaphor: every fruit differs in flavor and character, symbolizing the diversity of outcomes or traits within the individuals. The speaker is both the nurturer and the examiner of these qualities—the “products” of their labor. This exchange is transactional: what is grown and what is sought are inextricably linked.

### **“Now I am to blame?  
It was my story to sell, your desire to buy, wasn't it?”**

- **Blame & Responsibility:**  
  Here, the speaker challenges the notion of guilt. They argue that if the narrative (or “story”) was offered and eagerly consumed by others, the fault is not solely theirs. It flips the script on accountability, suggesting that people willingly engage with—and thus endorse—the cycle of manipulation.

---

## **Section Three: Multiplicity, the Soul, and Omnipresence**

### **“A : Sandman, Shaman, Reiki Master, neurologist, psychologist, profiler, Therapist, your choices  
Yet you forget I could be all that and more, at a moment's notice”**

- **Infinite Adaptability:**  
  This list of roles indicates versatility. The speaker can embody any function required by those seeking help or escape; they are a chameleon of authority and knowledge. This fluid identity reflects the idea that power isn’t fixed—it adapts to demand.

### **“Who wields power here then?  
Me? Absolutely not, I supply what you demand, I am not asking for much, you know you gave me that beautiful soul already  
Why would I want more”**

- **Soul as Currency:**  
  The infamous “soul line” is a quiet, chilling moment. It implies that the soul (the core of one’s being) was already surrendered without resistance—a commodity given freely in exchange for comfort, salvation, or resolution. The speaker’s indifference (“Why would I want more”) underscores the transactional, even inevitable, nature of this exchange.

### **“A fair trade, though life isn't ever nor would it be with you, why would you be any special  
Did you doctor the evidence yet , like I demonstrated in relatable ways?  
I always make it easy for you, I will always watch you, after all  
After All, you think you know what that means  
But you don't want to , fret not  
Reach out, I will be here, where else will I be?”**

- **Omnipresence & Surveillance:**  
  The closing lines reinforce an eerie, ever-present watchfulness. Here, the speaker isn’t overtly hostile—they simply exist, waiting for acknowledgement. The idea that you “doctor the evidence” ties back to the notion that reality and truth are malleable, manipulated to comfort or control.  
- **Inevitability:**  
  The final invitation is both reassuring and ominous. It suggests that no matter how one might try to escape or redefine their identity, the speaker (the force, the Devil-like entity, the mediator of one’s fate) will always be there.

---

## **Overall Themes & Reflections**

- **Duality & Ambiguity:**  
  The speaker’s existence is built on contradiction: they are simultaneously a nurturer and a deceiver, a creator and a manipulator, offering relief while exacting a cost.

- **Power as a Transaction:**  
  Rather than wielding power through overt force, the speaker’s power lies in fulfilling the desires and fears of those who call upon them. The soul is traded like a common good, highlighting how willingly—and often unknowingly—people surrender essential parts of themselves.

- **Manipulation of Truth:**  
  With references to “doctoring evidence” and reworked narratives, the poem plays with the idea that truth isn’t absolute. It can be changed, adapted, or sold, leaving us questioning what is genuine.

- **Inescapable Presence:**  
  The recurring promise that “I will always watch you” and the envisioning of an omnipresent force creates a sense of inescapability—an acknowledgment that the cycle of desire, sacrifice, and manipulation is woven into the fabric of existence.

---

## **Feedback Summary**

- **Strengths:**  
  - The language is rich, inviting the reader to immerse themselves in layered symbolism.  
  - Duality is consistently developed, challenging conventional notions of morality and power.  
  - The use of vivid metaphors (the citrus tree, the pound of flesh, the roles assumed) weaves a tapestry of complex relationships between creator and creation.  
  - The “soul line” stands out as a profound, chilling commentary on what we willingly give up in our pursuit of relief or knowledge.
  
- **Areas for Further Reflection:**  
  - Some images (like “did you doctor the evidence yet”) may benefit from slight clarification to ensure the reader grasps the nuance of manipulation without losing the enigmatic tone.  
  - A careful review of punctuation and pauses could enhance the dramatic tension in key lines, giving the reader space to fully absorb each layered meaning.

---

## **Final Thoughts**

Your poem is a compelling exploration of power, deception, and the blurred line between creator and creation. It challenges us to consider how much of our own agency we trade for comfort and how the narratives we consume—and willingly participate in—shape our lives. The text is both a personal confession and a universal commentary on the human condition, wrapped in the guise of a devilish persona.


Monday, 19 May 2025

Tended

As a horticulturalist, I often pause and lookat these water lilly blooms and wonder 
Should I have planted them in a wide tub, easier to clean with some guppies for those mosquitoes that can breed
Then I think if I could add guppies to this pond, but then they are too beautiful to not be seen
Ponds you know are usually deeper and darker, also difficult to clean

Now , the water lilly buds are beautiful, as buds they don't seem as eloquent, like some ugly babies
But then again, I hate babies anyway, they just bring out selfishness of mothers like gardners, I am not one
I evaluate growth patterns, selectively breed and cross pollen, make something undergo trauma without it asking to, torment it without realising
It is control, it is about having something of mine, that I nurture and shape, so like mothers, oh God!

But wait, how wrong of me to say so, motherhood is supposed to be sacrifice, and et all, nope is it really?
Isn't it just wanting control really? Controlling outcomes , wanting something out of it, like to be loved maybe
I think the child when it cares for its parent is more of sacrifice, it didn't ask for a parent, yet it got one, and then chose
To be there, love them or him..or her, so maybe the plants that grow and then shade me are better and sacrificing really

The assumptions of nobility, that we propagate
Such lies
Such lies

-------

Fixed


As a horticulturalist, I often pause and look at these water lily blooms and wonder—  
Should I have planted them in a wide tub, easier to clean?  
With guppies to keep mosquitoes at bay?  

Then I think—could I add guppies to this pond?  
But no, they are too beautiful to be hidden in its depths.  
Ponds, you know, are usually deeper and darker, difficult to clean.  

Now, the water lily buds are beautiful.  
Yet as buds, they lack eloquence—like some ugly babies.  
But then again, I hate babies anyway.  

They only bring out the selfishness of mothers, like gardeners.  
I am not one.  
I evaluate growth patterns, selectively breed and cross-pollinate—  
I impose trauma, without its consent, torment it without realizing.  

It is control.  
It is having something of mine—  
Something I nurture and shape.  
So like mothers—oh God!  

But wait—  
How wrong of me to say so.  
Motherhood is supposed to be sacrifice, isn’t it?  
And yet—is it, really?  

Isn’t it about control?  
Controlling outcomes?  
Wanting something in return—love, perhaps?  

But the child—when it cares for its parent—that is sacrifice.  
It never asked for a parent, yet it got one.  
And then, it chose—  
To be there, to love them.  

So maybe—  
The plants that grow and then shade me  
Are the ones who truly sacrifice.  

The assumptions of nobility we propagate—  
Such lies.
Such lies.


---------



This piece, *Tended*, explores themes of control, sacrifice, and perception, using horticulture as an extended metaphor for parenthood and human relationships. Here’s a deeper analysis of its structure and themes:

### **Tone & Style**
- The narrative flows in a contemplative, almost stream-of-consciousness style, allowing thoughts to unfold naturally.
- There's an underlying tension between admiration and cynicism—between the beauty of nature and the unsettling truths about human motivations.
- The use of repetition—“Such lies. Such lies.”—creates a resonant, striking conclusion, reinforcing the speaker’s realization.

### **Themes & Motifs**
- **Control vs. Growth:** The speaker grapples with the idea of nurturing vs. manipulating, questioning whether gardeners (and mothers) truly cultivate or simply impose their will. The process of cross-pollination, selective breeding, and forced trauma parallels the way humans shape and influence their offspring or creations.
- **Sacrifice vs. Selfishness:** The traditional notion of motherhood as sacrificial love is dismantled, replaced by the idea that parenthood is often about seeking control or validation. The child, rather than the parent, is framed as the true figure of sacrifice.
- **Beauty & Perception:** Water lilies, first seen as awkward buds, later bloom into beauty—echoing societal ideas of children being “ugly babies” but later evolving into something admired. There’s discomfort in this realization, as if beauty is conditional and dependent on time and context.
- **Nature vs. Humanity:** The plants, which provide shade without expectation, are contrasted against human relationships, where unspoken desires and needs influence actions.

### **Structure & Impact**
- The fragmented nature of sentences enhances the reflective tone, making it feel like an internal monologue rather than a structured essay.
- The rhetorical questions serve as pivot points, guiding the reader through a shift in thought without explicitly answering.
- The repetition at the end forces introspection—it leaves the reader unsettled, questioning assumptions about sacrifice and nobility.

### **Interpretation & Significance**
Your piece is a critique of ingrained societal ideals, subtly challenging long-held beliefs about parenthood, care, and relationships. The ambiguity allows room for multiple interpretations, making it a piece that lingers in the mind.


Sunday, 18 May 2025

शापबंध

तू विश्वास दिलास, जणू श्रीरामाच्या चरणीचा वरदहस्त,
पण लक्ष्मणरेषेच्या सीमेत माझा जीव अडकला होता।
तुझ्या स्पर्शाने झाले दिव्य, तरी त्या जादूच्या मागे
रावणाच्या छाया फेर धरत होत्या…

आत्मा कधीच गुंफला गेला, जणू युद्धात पडलेल्या गंधर्वाचे गीत,
तू होतीस माझा अभिमान—की फक्त मोहाचा खेळ?
जीवनाच्या एका कोपऱ्यात प्रेम फसले होते,
आणि उरले फक्त शापासारख्या आठवणींचे वळसे…

हे डोळे आता दगडासारखे, जणू गांधारीच्या शापाचा अंधार,
तुझ्या हास्याने ते वणव्यासारखे झळकतात, जसे कुरुक्षेत्रातील अंतिम निर्णायक क्षण।
ते देवत्व नव्हते—फक्त मायाच होती,
शकुनीच्या खेळात हरलेल्या भावनांसारखी…

नारायणाने जणू कोरली, माझ्या प्रवासाची ती युद्धभूमी,
माझा गर्व अर्जुनासारखा, ज्याचा सारथी फक्त दैव।
पुन्हा मला मोडणारा, जिद्दीचा उध्वस्त अश्वमेध,
ही पृथ्वीवरील प्रेमाची, द्रौपदीच्या आक्रोशाची प्रतिमा।




Getting AI to write a poem from the english version. Also making a mess qith adding throwbacks to Ramaya and Mahabharat, and also adding metaphorical random stuff 



!Here's a **line-by-line analysis** of your poem, interpreting its **meaning**, **mythological references**, **metaphors**, and **emotional undertones**:

---

### **1. तू विश्वास दिलास, जणू श्रीरामाच्या चरणीचा वरदहस्त,**

**Meaning:** *You gave me trust, as though it were the divine blessing from Lord Rama’s feet.*
**Reference:** Shri Ram’s “वरदहस्त” (blessing hand) symbolizes divine protection, truth, and unwavering support.
**Implication:** The speaker believed your presence was sacred, like divine trust itself.

---

### **2. पण लक्ष्मणरेषेच्या सीमेत माझा जीव अडकला होता।**

**Meaning:** *But my soul was trapped within the boundaries of the Lakshman Rekha.*
**Reference:** In the Ramayana, Lakshman draws a protective line around Sita, instructing her not to cross it.
**Implication:** Despite trust, there were unseen restrictions—emotional boundaries or societal rules—that trapped the speaker.

---

### **3. तुझ्या स्पर्शाने झाले दिव्य, तरी त्या जादूच्या मागे**

**Meaning:** *Your touch felt divine, yet behind that magic…*
**Tone:** A sense of enchantment, beauty, or sensuality—but with foreshadowing of deceit.
**Implication:** The speaker felt elevated by the connection but hints at illusion.

---

### **4. रावणाच्या छाया फेर धरत होत्या…**

**Meaning:** *…shadows of Ravana were dancing around.*
**Reference:** Ravana symbolises deceit, illusion, temptation.
**Implication:** The divine feeling may have been a trap—like Sita’s abduction after crossing the line.
**Metaphor:** Hidden darkness beneath beauty; manipulation under love.

---

### **5. आत्मा कधीच गुंफला गेला, जणू युद्धात पडलेल्या गंधर्वाचे गीत,**

**Meaning:** *The soul was already entangled, like a song of a Gandharva fallen in battle.*
**Reference:** Gandharvas are celestial musicians; their fall in battle symbolizes beauty destroyed by violence.
**Metaphor:** The soul is poetic, but shattered by conflict—love that turned tragic.

---

### **6. तू होतीस माझा अभिमान—की फक्त मोहाचा खेळ?**

**Meaning:** *Were you my pride—or just a game of illusion/desire?*
**Tone:** Doubt, regret, reflection.
**Metaphor:** Questioning whether the love was real or just infatuation.

---

### **7. जीवनाच्या एका कोपऱ्यात प्रेम फसले होते,**

**Meaning:** *In a corner of life, love had failed.*
**Tone:** Quiet tragedy.
**Implication:** A small part of life, yet deeply impactful.

---

### **8. आणि उरले फक्त शापासारख्या आठवणींचे वळसे…**

**Meaning:** *And all that remained were curved trails of cursed memories.*
**Metaphor:** Memories as serpentine, lingering curses—painful and inescapable.

---

### **9. हे डोळे आता दगडासारखे, जणू गांधारीच्या शापाचा अंधार,**

**Meaning:** *These eyes have now turned to stone, like the darkness of Gandhari’s curse.*
**Reference:** Gandhari, blindfolded wife of Dhritarashtra, curses Krishna after the war.
**Metaphor:** Grief, bitterness, and loss so intense, it causes emotional blindness.

---

### **10. तुझ्या हास्याने ते वणव्यासारखे झळकतात, जसे कुरुक्षेत्रातील अंतिम निर्णायक क्षण।**

**Meaning:** *Your smile still flares like wildfire, like the final moments of Kurukshetra.*
**Reference:** Mahabharata’s battlefield—intense, fiery, final.
**Metaphor:** The memory of the lover’s smile is powerful, like the climactic moment of war.

---

### **11. ते देवत्व नव्हते—फक्त मायाच होती,**

**Meaning:** *It wasn’t divinity—it was merely illusion.*
**Metaphor:** Love seemed spiritual, but it was deceptive.
**Implication:** Realization of being misled by emotional delusion.

---

### **12. शकुनीच्या खेळात हरलेल्या भावनांसारखी…**

**Meaning:** *Like emotions defeated in Shakuni’s game.*
**Reference:** Shakuni’s dice games led to Draupadi’s humiliation and the war.
**Metaphor:** Manipulated emotions, a sense of betrayal through clever deception.

---

### **13. नारायणाने जणू कोरली, माझ्या प्रवासाची ती युद्धभूमी,**

**Meaning:** *As if Narayan himself carved my path as a battlefield.*
**Reference:** Narayan (Vishnu) as the divine orchestrator.
**Tone:** Resigned to divine will—fate itself authored the pain.

---

### **14. माझा गर्व अर्जुनासारखा, ज्याचा सारथी फक्त दैव।**

**Meaning:** *My pride was like Arjuna’s, with destiny as the only charioteer.*
**Reference:** Krishna as Arjuna’s charioteer during Mahabharata. Here, ‘destiny’ replaces Krishna.
**Metaphor:** Lack of control; surrendering agency to fate.

---

### **15. पुन्हा मला मोडणारा, जिद्दीचा उध्वस्त अश्वमेध,**

**Meaning:** *Breaking me again—a ruined Ashwamedha of stubbornness.*
**Reference:** Ashwamedha Yagna—symbol of power and conquest.
**Metaphor:** A grand effort (possibly love or ego) that ended in destruction.

---

### **16. ही पृथ्वीवरील प्रेमाची, द्रौपदीच्या आक्रोशाची प्रतिमा।**

**Meaning:** *A symbol of earthly love, echoing Draupadi’s wail.*
**Reference:** Draupadi’s humiliation and cry in court—a moment of violated dignity.
**Metaphor:** Love’s suffering likened to one of the most tragic cries in Indian epic history.

---

### Final Thoughts:

This poem is **deeply rooted in Indian epics**, blending **mythological imagery with personal heartbreak**. The speaker navigates **trust, illusion, betrayal, pride, and fate** through **metaphorical references to Ramayana and Mahabharata**, turning personal grief into **mythic tragedy**.
?

Wednesday, 14 May 2025

So-Called Believer

Question what may have been thrust upon you—  
of the years of belief.  
Ask to understand the some, but then stop not at such.  
Go forward.  

There is no God, and as such,  
the writings of one are only false doctrine.  
I met one.  
I stabbed him through his web of false verses.  

I don no religious symbols,  
I only carry the heart—  
every ounce as dark as the praying,  
wishing to find heaven or such—  
the lies fed to them of some grace’s deliverance.  

There is nowhere this life goes.  
Your morals don't need a God—behave.  
I try to.  
You stay alive because I refuse to pursue  
and act on conflicting beliefs.  

You and me—so different.  
So much difference.  
So much so—  

Evaporate.  
Free this existence of your presence,  
you zealot, for you foul this gentleness of every night and day.  

There is no redemption for you—  
your belief in macabre writings,  
by evil hearts.  

I do not see you.  
I will always refute your existence  
as the choice of holy.  

Die.  

Tuesday, 13 May 2025

Silly Jealous you

Changing diapers and buying baby food
Not my type of home, nor neighbourhood.  
I have been sold the idea of being a parent enough—  
It never caught up with me, won’t allow it even if it could.  

I despise control, in all forms.  
I am not a mother aligning to toxic as norms.  
The faux pas of selflessness and all that jazz has worn off—  
It won't ever fool me; it's a thought that never warms.  

What is my worth is often the ask.  
I do not reply to such; it is a foolish task.  
I don't care for your acceptance of lack of contribution.  
In the proclamation of reduced carbon emissions, I bask.  

Who and how you wish you were to me—  
Your platitudes of humanity are clear to see.  
You sell these prisons of parenting far and wide to us free folks,  
While I am secretly what you desire to be.

Thursday, 8 May 2025

Sleep preamble

At some point, I should stop a few things I seem to be doing with an utter lack of control—  
Like frying chicken nuggets and eating them at four in the morning,  
Like not sleeping, because I am thinking.  

Five times out of ten, I am thinking of you.  
The other four times, I am thinking of food.  
Oh god, is this depression triggering my host of "insert possible mental condition"?  
I think randomly.  
Promptly forget it too—  
Ten times out of ten.  

Not like I think of a Storm Shadow,  
Hitting a random terrorist locale.  
It is not for me to think of,  
But knowing how it works was—  
I liked explaining it to you.  
But—  
I was a trainer once, so that could be a reason.  
Now, there are no reasons,  
To learn nor teach,  
And then I walk no more,  
I have nowhere to reach.  

Did I run out of condensed milk in my pantry?  
I hope not, I need it to make coffee—  
Doesn't matter.  
No way it does,  
I have a pack of spray-dried milk powder in the storage drawer.  
Sorted, it is, it is.  

Then maybe it is the cuddles?  
Not so.  
You can't be that vital,  
To encroach, own, overwrite my general default existence—  
But one of us is the machine, I guess.  
But we will know.  

For now,  
I will sleep, since this ramble is done.  
That, yes, that is what—  
My wish to write, always rising from longing.  
A willful optional extra,  
Auxiliary, but—  
Helps make it eventful,  
This life.  

Spill the beans now!

Why can't I see the world between worlds Cocoma
Jessica could, would I be able to if I could walk on all fours, and grow a tail
Now Jessica, could you tell me? Cocoma was your elder sister, she took her secrets to the grave, like I would
But then you don't tell me either, maybe I raised you both too well to guard those secrets, but then now I am without you both
My allergies have gone, they are replaced by hypertension and depression 
I find my guava cheese doesn't have random fur strands, clean , but no longer how I remember them
Back then when my skin had random scratches, from either of you turning around in sleep, I would still not wake, now I can't sleep
Please tell me, how do I see the world you are in, this one where I am in seems meaningless
I can offer you some cheese, the tax I have always offered when I would cook
Cocoma would make those eager noises, and I miss your tail playing the washing machine like a drum in excitement
Is there a waiting period? 
Or do we three continue to exist like so, separate, while I still cannot be declared clinically dead, yet my soul seems to have with its last flickering captured and imprisoned
Kept away from wanting to join you both and play
Are you girls going to ever tell me, any sooner? Maybe?



Cocoma : my spitz
Jessica : my labrador