The Dog That Got Away

The Dog that got away
was never really here
It used me
Sucked me dry
So now I watch that green cactus
Turn brown in the Fall
Because plants don't have feelings
Like my step-father told me that
Cats have nine lives
Like when the tight-rope man
Faced his fears and crossed
Crossed into heaven
But was denied passage
Because of the clutter in his closet
His closet made of painted gold
As fake as your
Happiness
It shimmers on and on
Dimming slightly as each year passes
Until the plants
Take over your eyes
With their pretty Leaves
Their frangrant flowers
And control your thoughts
Until they spiralinto maniacal laughter
Killing, Killing
Slaying, Slaying
All the brown cacti
Until they become green again
Like the Dog that never really got away