Just the happy stuff

 Just the happy stuff.
The world got to serve me up those positive vibes like pies.
Stories of hope that inspire us to take another step forward instead of backward.
Rage and disappointment and other interrruptions left you with lard in a bath.
It's looking back up at you like a living creature.
It squirms and tells all those good anecdotes you forgot from high school.
A lost friend with no bones or organs swarming over the porcelain.
Reminding you of those good realities you missed those years ago.
Just the happy stuff though.
And when you convince that long piece of purple lard that you are the bad memories.
Well then it just dehydrates and tucks into itself, blocks the drain until you can no longer wash.
You can no longer even approach the bathtub, because you killed that lard of yourself.
Convincing the purpleness that it was not grand by every ill you drudged up.
By every micro tragedy that you put your full singing voice into screaming out.
To a single witness, the long piece of lard, no longer living.
A careful friend who poisoned themselves in hope that you wouldn't.