Dying Alone

A cat with nicotine stained teeth

stared at me with disdain, but

also winced in a gregarious pain

like he wanted to join me

as I wandered the yard hurting.

I had lost my way and as if there

was a fence around the yard, I

couldn’t escape the memories.

A regretful past had begun to

consume me from my belly out.

I began to spit up blood and my

lungs bubbled as I breathed.

I was in desperate need of help

but lost all my connections because

of all my poor decisions and no

one was conveniently available

anymore. It was me and this cat,

who was also hurting, but it turns

out he was just having hunger pains,

because as I fell to my knees, then

face first and flat. I felt the cat

beginning to eat my liver, a cats

favorite kind of pâte. Then he ate

my fingers like they were French

fries and my last thought was so

this is what dying alone feels like.