happiness is a dead cat
that you lock in a box
hoping it's still alive
if you don't open it

seen from United States
seen from China

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Russia
seen from China

seen from India
seen from Australia
seen from Vietnam

seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Germany
seen from Italy

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from China
happiness is a dead cat
that you lock in a box
hoping it's still alive
if you don't open it
consciousness, now streaming
I smile inspite of the pain because there are rainbows in the cracks of the window pane. I laugh inspite of the rain because a new queen of spring has begun her reign. There is a printout of a photograph of a print of a painting of marigolds hanging on the east wall that the light hits just right at sunset. It is 2 am on a starless Sunday. There is a new machine on the nightstand that breathes for me. It is Bluetooth-enabled so it can yell at me and tell the insurance company how many times I stop breathing. I stop breathing. I stop breathing. It forces air into my lungs, not life. I live a little longer, die a little slower. Happiness is warm donut, plain glazed. The doctor says I can't have any. She says there will be no pain once the numbness sets it. The numbness sets in. She sticks the needle into my arm. So sweet the sting.
99 problems but a bomb cyclone ain't one