When It Rains It Pours by Eric Sparks

And when she sleeps, she snores,
so I don’t think I’m ready
for what that silence implies.

And yet, silence only fits
at moments like this;
I can’t remember through all the noise.

Shit, look how useless metaphors are,
as if they could save my soul.
See, my dog died today; this
poem is for how lost I feel.

I guess it’s not enough that I’m drug-addicted,
or that my favorite gypsy went to Spain,
because last night, while I slept through,
the dinosaurs came and
took my favorite dog too.