I am a goldfish dancing in circles within a great sphere of light
and you are nothing but a cat trying to steal the sheen of my scales.
I spin in a storm of ups and downs and bubbles and stars and
wave upon wave
upon wave upon
hopes and dreams and everything between
the great sea bed and the great goddess Moon above.
If I were to breathe into your lungs I would suffocate you
and drown you
and keep you in my dark sea witch lair and you'd never see the sun again.
The cat thinks it has the plan
to catch a star
to catch a fish
to catch a drink and make a wish
and it thinks it has me all figured out.
A little golden sundrop in a translucent bowl of obvious opportunity.
I am not that easy.
They use fish as bait for a reason.
I shimmer and move and make
and dance with the earth as it quivers and quakes
and I can become a shark within seconds after you dip that sweet little paw in,
that dainty little paw.
You think your claws will scare me.
You think I couldn't pull you under all the way, deep into the dark abyss of stormy tides
and mile wide trenches and a gloomy underworld of manipulative merfolk
with glassy eyes and dead fish between their teeth.
I know things that you don't and I see things that you won't
and I have been closer to hell than you ever will in any of your nine lives.
I dance in the light and my scales gleam bright as the sun;
A golden treasure a king would be proud to have served upon a royal dish.
I dance and tease and tempt and wait and wish
for that delicate little paw to try and claw his way to my heart.
But I am a goldfish
and nothing more.
I can't fly, can't walk, can't run away from your mighty talk,
can't wiggle my way onto the floor,
can't make a hasty dash to the door.
You see me hide my eyes afraid to look,
an innocent creature with a virgin tail and nothing more.
I have a memory of three seconds
I'll ask for a kiss
and nothing more.
I am a goldfish swimming in circles within a glass bowl and nothing more
and you are a cat looking for his next easy meal.
We are trapped in a storm of ups and downs and bubbles and stars and
waves upon waves
upon endless waves of
hopes and dreams and everything inbetween
what's outside the water and what's in
and we are planning the demise
of our own reflections.
There is no fish and there is no cat
and all I can say about that is there is no glass bowl between the two
and there is only a universal urge to trap each other in our own whims.
I write poetry to keep the fish moving
and I write poetry to keep the cat fed and
it is an existential existence from beginning to end.
Someday I want to be a Slam poet. And someday I will record this so you can hear how it goes. But first I'd have to find some guts.
I'm supposed to be cleaning. I should be cleaning. I would rather work on my painting and write poetry, but I am full of shoulds all the time and that is where I'm headed.
Plus. I like when the ferrets are clean.Edit:
Most likely, no one will listen, BUT, this is a practice in doing things that make me uncomfortable.Man, I hate that sound of my own voice.Edit2:
Ash just said I say "I" funny. I do. Every time I hear it I start laughing. Oh god. Sorry. XD