this is being written as i consider suicide.
the sleeping pills know the way to the garage and might
do me in before i begin to protest.
Letter to myself, from a week ago:
before ever attempting suicide:
read poetry or newspapers in the hope
that either will
change your life.try dancing again and fracture a toe/
sprain a ligament/bump into someone to
remind yourself of how it once changed your life.
cry over it,
get over it.be a black bird without mercy,
join a conspiracy,kill a
bitch and say im jealous of you.stop believing in
karma, put it in a tarot card and motion blur
the shit.give up trying to belong to
borrowed walls, know no safer
roofs than accumulated dreams.consider this: every
line drawing grows into a Venn diagram if not
left alone.give yourself 90 minutes in hell for a little
longer than this, and at a stretch.look at the
mirror, say FUCK i have nothing to do with this and
break it.walk in and walk out of being ok and do
it very fast do it like a firefighter against
ocean currents, his training futile,still
wired to fighting for safety.write an email and know that
this is romance. the air you breathe in is a different
country and your face is a safety-pin(up).bless distance and
stretch it like a continent until it gives way to
your seas, bless plate tectonics for
teaching the world freedom.break free and
know:
this is romance.call shayo up and pray she
sings live forever.try saying yes.say, the pins sticking
out of my tongue need safe disposal, yes. say,
Im starved and lonely and I drew your face but
I was really just hoping it was a smoke and I haven't swallowed
yet I'm waiting,yes. I'm the person who'd find you like you
find her but you dont
come around. paint a pebble for one whole day.
paint a pebble for a little longer.
keep painting the pebble till your mother comes and
throws it away and get back to being
the absence of sense and delete the
last blog post and throw away the pills because
they're hers, really, who wants to use her stuff.this
is getting tiring, sleep it
over and forget about it, you can't for the life of you
do it anyway.
This was there like a fishbone stuck in one's throat, but i can
only guess.I don't eat fish, they reek of premature
death and regrets. it was like the first day
of the knowledge of cancer,the last
method of redemption and its lost procedure guide.it
was there like hems around my lungs and i pulled it out,
wrapped up the pills in it, and realized that they didn't
come with my expiry date anyway.
the sleeping pills know the way to the garage and might
do me in before i begin to protest.
Letter to myself, from a week ago:
before ever attempting suicide:
read poetry or newspapers in the hope
that either will
change your life.try dancing again and fracture a toe/
sprain a ligament/bump into someone to
remind yourself of how it once changed your life.
cry over it,
get over it.be a black bird without mercy,
join a conspiracy,kill a
bitch and say im jealous of you.stop believing in
karma, put it in a tarot card and motion blur
the shit.give up trying to belong to
borrowed walls, know no safer
roofs than accumulated dreams.consider this: every
line drawing grows into a Venn diagram if not
left alone.give yourself 90 minutes in hell for a little
longer than this, and at a stretch.look at the
mirror, say FUCK i have nothing to do with this and
break it.walk in and walk out of being ok and do
it very fast do it like a firefighter against
ocean currents, his training futile,still
wired to fighting for safety.write an email and know that
this is romance. the air you breathe in is a different
country and your face is a safety-pin(up).bless distance and
stretch it like a continent until it gives way to
your seas, bless plate tectonics for
teaching the world freedom.break free and
know:
this is romance.call shayo up and pray she
sings live forever.try saying yes.say, the pins sticking
out of my tongue need safe disposal, yes. say,
Im starved and lonely and I drew your face but
I was really just hoping it was a smoke and I haven't swallowed
yet I'm waiting,yes. I'm the person who'd find you like you
find her but you dont
come around. paint a pebble for one whole day.
paint a pebble for a little longer.
keep painting the pebble till your mother comes and
throws it away and get back to being
the absence of sense and delete the
last blog post and throw away the pills because
they're hers, really, who wants to use her stuff.this
is getting tiring, sleep it
over and forget about it, you can't for the life of you
do it anyway.
This was there like a fishbone stuck in one's throat, but i can
only guess.I don't eat fish, they reek of premature
death and regrets. it was like the first day
of the knowledge of cancer,the last
method of redemption and its lost procedure guide.it
was there like hems around my lungs and i pulled it out,
wrapped up the pills in it, and realized that they didn't
come with my expiry date anyway.
aaaahahahhaha the grouchy one would be mom's neighbourgirl, and the Chinese cutted haired person is herself.
