i’m a dragonfish…


Fishy Fishy Fishy Poo

It’s not piscatorial you’re feeling. You’ve never been to sea.

It’s not enmity you’re feeling. You meditate every morning that you are: peaceful and content in every way and every day.

You’re feeling like a scarlet tanager has alighted on your brain stem — and here we stand next to a waterfall, falling out of love, and fearing the eventual dissipation of all fossil fuel.

The end of life as we know it before we got to know it.

You got it. You got it.

I bid you a tepid adieu. This was already over between us, so why kid ourselves that this really means anything to us… or to me, anyway. So green god-damned, and all of that other high school stuff.

I leave you and your piscatorial delusions with this heartfelt list:

Trout. Orange Roughy. Bass. Mahi Mahi. Salmon. Sunfish. Catfish. Clownfish. Cichlid. Cod. Angelfish. Dragonfish…

You drift off into the Marianas Trench. Your bathysphere detached.



“I, bastard child of the giant chandelier called the blue sky.
No one calls me the sphinx of love.”

— Shuzo Takiguchi / “The Fish’s Desire”

About istsfor manity

i'm a truncated word-person looking for an assemblage of extracted teeth in a tent full of mosquitoes (and currently writing a novel without writing a novel word) and pulling nothing but the difficult out of the top hat while the bunny munches grass in the hallway. you might say: i’m thee asynchronous voice over in search of a film....
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