A Man and His Dog

There was nothing special about the dog

His fur was a pale yellow, mangy and dirty

He wasn’t a puppy, ready to take on the world

And his ill manners couldn’t be attributed to young age 

But instead a poor upbringing and traumatic past

That sometimes made him act like a savage 

 

The man spent time abroad, fighting like a savage 

He saw himself in the old, beaten dog

The man had killed many people in the past 

And his soul felt heavy and dirty

The dog didn’t know any of this, despite his old age 

He only knew that they were both afraid of the world 

At first, they lived in their own separate worlds

The man tried washing the dog, as his fur was savage 

Sometimes they played in the yard, like children of a young age 

The relationship grew, and the man began to love the dog

They frolicked in the mud, got their paws dirty 

The dog began to trust the man despite his past

 

They often fought the past

The man remembered his time in the war, a different world 

He wanted to wash away the sins and the dirt

Sometimes, the dog bit and snapped savagely 

He remembered being a young dog

When his owners tied him up and left him outside to age

They both could feel their bodies age

Some of it naturally, some of it due to their pasts 

The man wished not to outlive his dog

For he was his only friend in this lonely world 

But the world is savage

It is not clean or pure, only dirty

And time took his dog because the world is dirty 

Underground where he would rot and age

No one knows why, but life is savage

And when his dog died, he waited for the pain to pass 

But it never did, cruel world

So he laid down beside his dog 

And placed his old head on the dirty ground, thinking of the past 

They would walk together through the world, despite how they aged

Because with a dog, you can beat anything savage

  • Introduction

  • Scribbles

  • Oxygen

  • I Wanted to Tell a Funny Chemistry Joke, but All the Good Ones are Gone

  • I climbed the steps and there he stood

  • Ode to Indium/I climbed the steps and there He stood

  • All Hallows’ Eve/The Old Farmhouse

  • I’m Just a Phony

  • Halloween/I’m Just a Phony

  • The empty Slate we know and love

  • Iridium

  • I have always enjoyed the night

  • Heart Decay

  • The White Path

  • The Black Path

  • Short Story

  • High Dive

  • Cake

  • A Bouquet Of Flowers

  • A Soulmate for Sodium

  • Red Wine Never Comes Out

  • I realized I wasn’t the only one     

  • Up, Up, Up, and Away

  • Vermilion

  • A Man and His Dog

  • What a Scary Thing to Say

  • The Haircut

  • Loose Ends

  • The Garden Fairy

  • Lucky Number 13

  • Three Hearts, One Holder

  • Government Distributed Life

  • It’s Up to You

  • Lithium

  • Untitled

  • Fluorescent Adolescent

  • 800

  • Scribbles Staff

Scribbles

As children,

They were taught to color in the lines,

And they learned that if somehow the crayon slipped

And strayed from the boundaries of that black line,

The picture became worthless.

They regarded their teachers as authorities on such matters

And listened as they fed them lies about art and its value.

And as the children grew,

They carried false notions with them

And stayed far away from any scribbles.

Beautiful scribbles that were full of meaning and life

Were thrown away and lost forever while

Their more conventional counterparts were framed

And hung on the wall right next to the ones that looked

Just like them.

 

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