how to possibly die happy


(just as it is) just as it is here, now

may it forever be;

are worthless trinkets for summer days spent and

to oneself malnourished

fed a steady diet of happy


in a word, as a penicillin to give chase to

a plague: doom


may that and those forevers be greeted

as a visitor arrived unannounced

as bitters gently stirred

a drink, incomplete in its absence,

  of doom

  to sour a stomach turned on

  hollow smiles


sometimes I think, too

much is made of not enough  and


I feel the weight of my smile

my heart pushed by

my mind taken by

the thought of 

being fully 



the wood beneath my feet

barely afloat

planing on waves hungry to swallow


chaos comes, just as it should

to be, just what it should  and

every heavy smile banished into

another day

made pure for the here of then


in another word, cousin of doom: felicity.