Toxic Poem

There once was a dragon who wrote
many tales and poems of note
she hid them away
among toxic decay
for a knight with the antidote.

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Why I Died Single

It was a pie.

Coconut cream pie to be exact.

There I was, munching on another slice of sin and attempting to write another sonnet (Sonnet Attempt Number 456, when suddenly my head falls into the fattest slice of pie this side of the Mississippi.

The waiter, an 18-year-old college student from UW, dropped his tray of dirty dishes when he saw me. Poor thing. He was so shaken up. He even started to cry.

Amongst the panicked-stricken staff and rubbernecking patrons, I was somehow rushed to the hospital where they pronounced me dead. February 14, 2020, at 1AM.

Technically, I was dead by 12:15am. I know because that was the time on my phone. I know because I was about to check my phone when my body collapsed. I know because I didn’t collapse with my body.

I still thought I was alive. Or dreaming. Or half-day-dreaming-half-food-coma. I don’t know. I just knew that I was sitting in my body one moment, and the next I was out of most of it… I say most because the rest was slipped off my shoulders and slumped on the table like a wet overcoat while I sat where my butt still was.

Getting out wasn’t a problem. It was kind of like slipping off a wetsuit, just not as wet and not as clingy. I did have help — the waiter, the EMT, the doctors, etc. They all moved my body without me in it.

And I followed, not knowing where else to go. The ambulance was, of course, cramped so I had to float above my body.

Such a surreal experience never felt so … Real…

I watched as they tried to resuscitate me. CPR. Defibrillator. But by the second time my body jumped with electricity off the bed, the doctors had to call it.

The immediate cause of death was asphyxiation due to coconut cream pie. But what caused me to face plant the pie was an aneurism.

Always thought chocolate would do me in, but that’s life. Never know what you’re going to get.

For a while, after they placed my body in the county’s morgue, I just floated there… All alone in the morgue. Not knowing what to do with myself.

As in life, as in death, am I right?

Twenty-nine years of life behind me, an eternity of death ahead of me, and I still cannot make up my mind what to do. Wasn’t there supposed to be light? A tunnel? A voice? A skeleton with a gardening tool? Or something?

No. There was nothing except my dead body in a metal freezer and me floating around. I don’t know how many days passed as I watched the mortician come and go, sometimes with files, sometimes with more bodies. There was no rush to contact relatives. All of mine have passed on long before me. Should I go looking for them in this after life? How do you find other dead people? Is there a Google maps for the dead?

As I floated, lost in thought (How would you even have host a site for the non-living?), my body was taken to be cremated, as per my last Will and Testament. I watched as the funeral director, the same man who walked me through my mother’s passing, lifted my body into the cremation casket, a simple light brown box with no metal handles and no cushions.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Ang Pagkatao ng Pilipino

Hello, my dragons and dragon lovers!

I will be one of six readers for an event celebrating Asian and Pacific Islander Heritage.

The topic of the reading is Being Filipino and what it means to be Filipino.

If you are in the Seattle area on May 19th, please stop by. The event is free and will include an open mic at the end.

I hope to see all you lovely writers and readers there!

What the fuck is this shit?

I see streets of gray, gray buildings too.
I see them grow around me and you.
And I think to myself:

What the fuck is this shit?

I see skies of gray and clouds of gray, (wtf!)
the wet windy day, the cold ass night,
and I think to myself:

What the fuck is this shit?

The colors of the pavement, so ugly on the ground,
are also on the faces of people screwing around.
I see addicts shooting up, saying “Do you want to fight?”
They’re really saying, “I’m high as a kite!”

I hear babies crying, I watch them bitch.
There’ll be more crying when their dad cracks the whip!

And I think to myself:

What the fuck is this shit?

Yes, I think to myself:

What the fuck is this shit????

What Not To Eat When Depressed and Craving Cinnamon Toast

First things first… Do not take out two sticks of butter from the fridge. Never do that. Butter is the gateway to bad times.

Okay. So you took out the butter. Even though I said not too… Okay. We can work with this. Just put that bowl of butter boldness back into the fridge and we will be okay. Just step go to that bowl and … Wait what are you doing with that fork… No stop! Put down that sugar!

Now look what you went and done did. You ruined perfectly good butter with sugar. What do you have to say for your…self… No! No! Put that down now!

I didn’t mean for you to put it into the… You know what? No, this is okay. You wasted butter and sugar and cinnamon but that’s okay. We can fix this. What? You also added vanilla? What is wrong with you? Go and throw this bowl of cinnamom sugar sin away. I’m going to go lie down and this bowl best be gone by the time I come back. God. Now my head hurts like a mother…

Okay, I am back and I thought it over. Maybe I was beong too harsh. I just know you are going through a lot so I wanted to make sure you didn’t … make… bad…

What is this?!?!

I can see that the bowl is gone and why does the house smell like a bakery!

No I don’t want to try one! Argh!

No. No. I’m out! Have your toasted cinnamon sins! I’m out!