Anthropomorphic Ways

Worlds collide in anthropomorphic ways. I see through yellow eyes a dog dying and a woman being tricked to move into a room alone for the betterment of all. Alone, in a gray carpeted room, a bed, a chair, and a tv, all waiting for her to leave this earth. Not waiting for death to reign in happiness, but for an end of suffering and an end of diligence and careful watches - that drip of sweat that perforates from the back of the neck when you think of wandering nights out in the cold with one shoe.

I want to move somewhere sunny and new - new environments to mold me and condition me to continue becoming myself - running into places that bear semblances of other lives that I have lived, with a new life peeking around the corner like a child waiting to leave timeout.

There are days when I wake up and think everyone I know and love is increasingly getting one day closer to death as my dog's eyes begin to sink into his skull and I try not to burp out clouds of smoke. Preparing to say goodbye - as gaps in my brain are housed with the last memory that we shared, for sentimental sake, and then - what do you want me to do? I say some nice words and think of our best times and I'm sad for losing you and death scares me but I'm happy for our paths to have crossed. The smell of dry soap, long fingernails, false teeth - sometimes the smell of nothing - my sniffer just isn't what it used to be. I hope I can walk out of here with the same spine as last time.