They don’t make it the beautiful die in flame— suicide pills, rat poison, rope wh… ever... they rip their arms off,

Go to Tibet. Ride a camel. Read the Bible. Dye your shoes blue. Grow a Beard.

sometimes you climb out of bed in… I’m not going to make it, but you… remembering all the times you’ve f… you walk to the bathroom, do your… in the mirror, oh my oh my oh my,…

your life is your life don’t let it be clubbed into dank… be on the watch. there are ways out. there is a light somewhere.

the illusion is that you are simpl… reading this poem. the reality is that this is more than a poem.

the night I was going to die I was sweating on the bed and I could hear the crickets and there was a cat fight outside and I could feel my soul dropping…

I reached up into the top of the c… and took out a pair of blue pantie… and showed them to her and asked “are these yours?”

waiting for death like a cat that will jump on the bed I am so very sorry for

death wants more death, and its we… I remember my father’s garage, how… I would brush the corpses of flies from the windows they thought were… their sticky, ugly, vibrant bodies

I can remember starving in a small room in a strange city shades pulled down, listening to classical music I was young I was so young it hur…

little dark girl with kind eyes when it comes time to use the knife I won’t flinch and