Black Heavy Pink

I'm a fast skater when on thin ice.
You know the end is coming soon baby;
too soon to sleep,
but not fast enough to keep your wondering mind
from dying as you try to find the answers
to every question I've presented.
If I don't get away now...

The watchdog inside
the courtyard approaches
the fence that keeps him in.
He smells my flesh and wants to savor
the blood held within my fingertips
but my intelligence wins. This time.
Maybe a smarter man will set him free
to see a smarter dog fulfill his dreams.

Keeping me up all night while you sleep all day,
now how's that any way to live?
I'm your pinnacle of the feeling of love baby,
your apex,
when compared to the love you've ever felt
when we've been in our prime.
The pearl among sand in your many oysters.
I try to sing you love songs while you rattle on
about how much of an ass I am.
Correcting instead of listening.
Arguing instead of mending.
Beating dead the horse that is the problem
rather than mothering the solution.
Could I go on? Yes, about as far as you could too.

The watchdog howls as he
jumps up against the fence
that keeps me out of the do-not-enter zone.
It holds little worth to me
other than it being a place where I'm forbidden.
If it weren't for that damn dog...
oh well. Anyway.
If it weren't for that damn dog,
it'd be just the same place as any other.

Good times.
Life is not measured in the amount of
good times,
or how we survive the phases that aren't
good times,
but it is in the definition of successful
good times
as opposed to the failure of moments that aren't
good times.

The watchdog was tiptoeing around,
gracefully almost,
as any four-legged creature trained to kill could.
Almost, until I entered his sight.
With a loud yelp he tore after me,
straining as his necktie tried its hardest
to keep him from barreling into the fence
and attempting any danger to my person.
In the midnight light
of the moon and a lightbulb outside the "in" door,
my shadow to him is now an odor as well
and the key signal of my presence.
He does not see that I can be his friend.
All he knows
is that this is where I'm not supposed to be.

Is that so? Is that it?
So much for you to see?
So hard for me to try and be myself sometimes
without having to please everyone else as well.
I need a day for me to feel happy again.
Is that why you locked me out
in the first place?
Two wrongs don't make a right.
Why is it that I can never make a go at it alone
without being held in place
or being watched over
or having the spaces patrolled?
What is it that I'm not seeing?
Love isn't a watchdog.
Love doesn't tread or murmur or potentially fail.
This wasn't a bad guess. There was no choice.
You know the end is coming soon baby.
There's no way to begin to explain.
From here to there, there is no end
to the beginnings I created
that I'll have a reasonable answer to.