lost.

sea urchin.

and the little boy said "hi".

and me, juggling beads of sand and water, sweating like a sun-baked egyptian slave, splashing freedom away effortlessly, say "hello."

the child smiled. i miss being that innocent.

he stared. prodded, and ogled.

he blink. screamed and chuckled.

i shall not lie to you, i was in fact, fuming.

it was one thing to be stranded, but to be stranded AND mocked, that was a cruelty that i shall not tolerate.

i wish i could move.

what fun it would be, to penetrate the child.

to drive myself into him.

to poison his insides.

i curse your malicious mind.

i merely want the boy to go. to leave me in peace. to give me a little pre-death solitude.

but no.

the boy took an old branch.

the poker being poked.

an irony in every sense.

i would give up a thousand sons and daughters just so i could prick the boy with one tiny spike.

send him running to the she-demon that spawned him.

but it was not in the designs. these barbs are mere defenses.

i cannot hurt anyone.

such is the fate of me.




a blind warlord.
a broken soldier.
a gun without bullets.
a knife with no edge.



a fuckin deadly sea fuckin urchin with no fuckin feet.






oh please lady luck, let the boy trip over that rock
so that i may prick...

his eyes out.

bulldog.

bulldog.

and i always knew he wanted to bark even though he didn’t.

and i always knew he wanted to lick my hand even though i didn’t come near him.

and i always knew he wanted to keep me safe even though he was caged.

and i always knew he wanted to run and play with me even though he was tired.

but i was always busy, or tired, or not in the mood, or indifferent.

he looked at me with his tired eyes, up to the last day of his life he looked at me.

i would like to think that he never had any ill feelings.

i would like to think that the only feeling he had towards me, his owner, was love.

i would like to think that i did everything that i could.

but i am guilty of neglect. plain and simply…i was a bad owner, i was a bad caretaker, i was a bad friend, i was a bad human.

on his last day, he looked like a wreck. he was thin, he was pale, he was dying.

same as always, i came down, went to the cage and put my hand on his head…he struggled to stand up.

he always licked my hand before i went to scholl, or to work…he always licks my hand before i leave..

on his last day, i went down to his cage, looked at him, and then went back up to my room.

i came back down again after a few minutes.

his tongue was out, his eyes were closed.

he was dead.

the last moment we shared: he was him being all dramatic, trying to say goodbye with all of his being, he was bidding me farewell and all i could think about was “where the hell did i leave my phone? maybe i left it upstairs”

the last moment we shared: he was saying goodbye to the only person he loved and i was busy about something else.

the last moment we shared: i was looking at him with pity while he was probably thinking, this is it buddy, im scared but there’s nothing we can do about it..farewell

he said goodbye, and i said nothing.

and all i could focus on now is how guilty i feel.

the selfishness is epic.

squid.

squid.

squid are seen in the market. lying dead on fish stalls. wallowing in their own slime. supine. unmoving. as dead as any other dead thing on the planet.

the said squid, like most other squid, must’ve lived a fairly mundane squid life. wandering around, spurting ink, telling the lady-squid squid-enticing pickup lines and probably getting squid-slapped in the process. he probably lives in a squidapartment and probably drives a squidmobile with squidsubwoofers that plays kick-ass squid songs. most likely he goes to a squiddy little job, gets paid fairly and has no squid complaints whatsoever.

and now he’s dead. as dead as any dead squid could be.

dead. not breathing, not squiggling, not breathing, nor squiggling, just plain and simply DEAD.

and its ok with him.

i mean, who needs a squiddy apartment? who needs to be slapped around by squidgirls? who needs to be squidly forced into squiddy labor only to end up squiddly dead anyway?

get it over with right?

and here I am, judging the poor guy.

i judged him for his weakness. i did not even consider it being a case of some fisherman catching mister squid in a net. i didnt even imagine him being stranded in some sand bank during low tide. i didnt even entertain the notion that maybe he was just weak and helpless; that he was a victim of natural demise.

i just saw him as a case of suicide. like he wanted to get caught.

he probably even cried.

i bought the guy for dinner.

i mean, i’ll be having him for dinner.

not accurate enough? fine. i’ll EAT him for dinner.

and i bet he’ll be a savory dish. and i bet i’ll have my fill. and i bet i’d even save some for tomorrow.

i’ll be full. and happy.

and totally oblivious to his teary-eyed dead squid eyes.

disclaimer: this post has nothing to do with anybody i know, it is definitely not about you so please do not flatter yourself by thinking: “shet, this must’ve been written as a subtle message to me! im so hurt!”….this is simply about a SLIMY, DEAD, SQUID.