<
Poemdog

Dogs 2017

A VIEW REMOVED
(6/10/17)

I'm
buried
here

beneath
this suffering
mound of
flesh

devoid
of all objectivity

no one else
senses
these personal
perversities
of existence

a passing
child
does not
notice
my tribulations

he sees
the sun

the trees

the birds

the grass

the insects

he seems
an integral part
of his physical
world

while
I feel
a world
unto myself

I watch him
chase
a butterfly

wondering
how
he catches
so much
joy

as his goal
continually
eludes him