One of us is crazy. They must be, to hang out with the others. I think it might be me... but I'm not sure which one that is?

You see Chuck created Huck, who created General Sherman. Chuck was also created from nothing by someone else or two, so we could all be real, right? Even if we could start all over from scratch, which we could all do... or maybe not? Or we could all be fiction, which is real in itself, so who are you to say? If I wrote you into a story, as I have written... say... Pooky-Bear into some of my stories, would that make you fiction? Or real? Did it make her real, even? How about if I wrote her into a fictional story? In your mind it might make her real, or fictional, so climb down off of your high horse. Perhaps you are the crazy one! Let's face it, you are only reading this because of the title anyhow... now that is crazy!

I mean, I could mention any one of the three of us and some of you would know who I was talking about, wouldn't you? You would probably even have some kind of opinion on us, even though you've never met us, and couldn't be sure any of us are real, but who are you, anyways? Some made up name on a made up website, with a made up personality and a made up profile pict who may or may not read anything I write, and I may or may not even know that you read it if you did? Unless you "liked" it, of course... and reposted it. You might be real then. And if you commented on it, that would surely make you real, wouldn't it? Even if the face you show us is not? Yes... yes it would make you real, or at least real enough, so please do!

Damn, we're all crazy as hell, aren't we?

Come on Huckleberry and General Sherman, let's go find Pooky-Bear and get some lunch. All this craziness is making me hungry for a peanut butter and banana sandwich.

cradling -

allows no separation.

gotta hold you

to my breastplate

so our hearts can learn to beat the same.

we’re going to make the same mistakes-

i’ll hate who you become,

despise the reminder of self.

you should call me murder,

mother is for women who love their daughters.

He looked into his sons eyes and held back tears as he knelt by the little bed.

The machines chirped.

"Where am I going when I die dad?"

His atheism had been a badge of honor until now.

Tears streamed uncontrollably now. He began to tremble.

"Heaven buddy."

The hardest part

was not the silence

rather than a soft thump

nor the absence of movement

instead of a kick

or having to push out

my lifeless second born.

The hardest part

was explaining to

my tearful three year old

why he wasn't going to be

a big brother.

i.

sweet potato pie

topped with marshmallows: a dish,

a euphemism

ii.

yellow fold-up chairs

aren't for seventeen-year-old

girls, not anymore

supposedly to

grow up is to nod while the

adults are talking

cross my ankles, chew,

swallow, scribble haikus that

they will never read

iii.

an appetizer

of political jargon

no 'soup or salad'

iv.

with apple cider

i wash down all the words i

know i shouldn't say

just to cram them in

boxes of five-seven-five

for a smile or two

from poets like me

dreamers, forever craving

something real; what's real?

It’s the perfect time to rise.

Peanut butter seats reclinin’

On my mind.

Fame and fortune desired.

All I need is you so baby I’m fine.

Haven’t stopped dreaming bout your eyes.

Gave ourselves the chance to do this right.

Take our time and last all night,

Babe I’m yours and you are mine.

Feeling’ so high I’m flyin’.

I hope this lasts forever,

It’s the perfect time.

Let me help you to understand here that what you as a human being think of as “Death”, is a big scary lie told to you to scare you into submission to obeying human religious leaders so they could be in power over the living.

It is true that this human form is made to dry up and wither away. However, the Soul of a human is infinite and continues on after the body falls away.

Death, the Soul, and the Body are all connected, very much like a caterpillar, a chrysalis and a Butterfly.

All Death is really is a transition from one existence to another. It’s nothing to be feared.

Life? Well you experience life every day. Live well and learn from your mistakes. Be kind and be humble. You will come to understand how important these attributes are while you are still a human.

Live well

Love much

Laugh often

Die another Day!

p

I'm not sure, I may be telling myself a sweet, beautiful lie- it's happened before, but not like this; it's scaring me, but I want to give in- I want to do this all for you, I know you're worth it and this may never happen again; I have to confess, tell the truth, let you know about what's either a marvel or a monster growing inside of me- perhaps, just maybe, there's the littlest chance that you're drowning in the same thing that I am.

(I love you.)