feed the cat where you sleep,
where you eat, where you
fuck. where you pray.
it doesn’t matter.
cat food dust in your orthopedic gloves.
cat food dust on your pillow, in your lungs.
you tried to fake your death twice three times
and came back home. turns out you never left.
write letters to the people you love
before you lose the feeling again.
take bluebeard’s key to your chest. look at all the bodies
you’re hiding in there.
paint them, write about them, sing them beautiful odes.
doctor bills and specialist bills and
insurance statements and back payments.
hospital-blue lights and red tape
all of it here and all of it there all at once and
where are you?
side effects may vary.
take only when needed.
take once per day.
are you drinking enough water?
when was the last time you went dancing?
where are your friends, the ones you had in high school?
cat in your lap doubles as a heating pad and never
leaves your side, even when that means you’re
crunched up, hunched over, forced to put the pen down.