It's all so unimportant, and distantly friendly, this life you offer to me in a bowl. Where's my spoon, or a fork at the very least. But am I so presumptuous as to ask for these things. Oh no, you have to make do with what life gives you. Rain, and snow. And tears like a milky blue liquid that goes unnoticed. Fight it all, with what you already have. And so I catch teardrops in my bowl, and I stare at them awhile, wondering what they might mean. I could put fishes to swim in them, but I'm told they'd never live like that. And it's sad. Not the tears, I mean, but the fishes. Because I'd like to have something to fill my empty bowl, other than tears. Is this all life has to offer? I could always put the fishes in anyway, life be damned. They're stronger than that.. I think they'd try to breathe.. And if they couldn't, and the underwater current dragged them down. Well it's only tears after all.. It's only liquid. I'll climb into my little bowl with them, and poke and prod, and give them pet names, be sad for a little while. That done I think I'll lie down beside them, and sink down.. Into something else.