there is a beautiful
poem hiding behind
the little spaces in
my mind

the words are in there,
not out there, and some
how, I need to coax
them out

but I don’t know what
they’re like; they hide
so well I can’t even
describe their shadow

so it might be a dog,
who wants thoughts
on anger, and hate,
and frustration

or it might be a horse,
beckoning me to be
free and run wild

or it might be a man,
or it might be a woman,
or it might be a whale,
or a cat,
or a bird,
or a car,
or it might be a
dog

so I throw out everything,
dog-treats like remembering
how I’ve been ******* over,
and cat-nip like the last time
I snuggled up with an old
love,
and human sweets, like poems
that display the worst possible
existence any person could
have (and how I have it)

these words,
hiding somewhere
in this big ol’
mind:

come out,
come out to play,
I need you boy,
I need you back,
you know it.

oh is that’s what you are?
oh ok,
maybe I’ll go chase
another animal,
your inspiration
isn’t any
good