A toad killed my dog.
Not any dog.
He’d of jumped off a cliff for me.
But a toad got him first
and since then for me
it’s all been toads.
I wake up and
I hear them fuckers
outside
croaking loudly
mockingly
after 3 days of constant rain.
I step outside to take
an early morning piss
and they're everywhere
looking me in the eye.
It’s all toads
as I tiptoe through them
throwing each one
over the fence
with a shovel.
I couldn’t kill them.
I couldn’t stoop to their level.
I go inside and
turn on the TV
and Youtube recommends
Mike Tyson
so I turn it on
to forget about the toads but
he is talking about toads
about taking the toad
and how
if you ever take the toad
you’ll know
you don’t know shit,
you’re nothing and
a dumb mother fucker
and
your life is a waste and
you will start praying
because you’re scared
as you realize your
only purpose here
is to worship something
anything
like the people of old
and to pray
without ever really seeing
or knowing
what you are worshiping.
The only understanding being
you can’t save
someone you deeply love
from dying.
Not even from a toad.