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Capsule Life

Yellow, white, red, pink and blue just small little things needed to be used on a daily. A thumb shoved down my throat. I need it to live, to really live. I cant breathe without them but it’s torture.

Yellow, white, red, pink and blue. You would think I was dying with all the tables and capsules. My vast fortune has dwindled away

Yellow, white red, pink and blue. I think I’ll just lay here…maybe all the colors will stop. The asking for advice or assist, I’m too young for this heartbreaking anguish of my now self. With my yellow, white, red, pink and blue.

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Pentobarbital

People call me a violent dog. The mad dog. Infected with rabies, an unpredictable temperament, one thing away from an explosion of aggression. barking, snarling; keeping people away.

I am a dog whose solitariness and admonition constantly avoided. My teeth are the only way I can propagate. Killed with one shot, my teeth and claw, my weeping. Always under the assumption that I am a freight, intimidation in any presence. But it’s not my fault. Any dog will bite if you beat it enough.