naturally I plan to kill

myself-

again and again-

stab the wounds

enough

till I’m just scar/

 

or

like some deranged phoenix

arising-

over and over-

from the pulp and pit-

a newborn-

wallowing in the shit

to preach of a new world-

only to get chewed-out

by reality and die over/

 

again-

lift up and raise arms

against the fleeting masses

as they flank me

and fuck me with their fingers

and cutout smiles-

I turn the gun to my chin

and can’t hear

the click/

 

fuck

here again

like a dream

recurring like

a dream recurring

like a dream recurring/

 

until/

I wake up-

 

I jump out the window

immediately/

 

the fucking earth

turns-

I hit the soft

cushy grass

and stare

at the laughing moon

and try to touch its face

with my finger/

 

it turns itself away-

like a pouting

chub-faced cherub-

and the pimpled

cold-shoulder to the sun

creates a night

still darker and still/

 

I dig a hole

with my hands-

bare and bloody-

six feet down-

but there is nobody

there to bury me-

I swallow the dirt

and choke on it/

 

I have dirt on my face

and in my mouth-

I talk in mud

and weeds grow

out my ears-

until finally

I become a tree-

karma is a plant-

and when the harpy

comes with a saw-

blood pours forth-

so I can say “ouch”

before going timber/

 

down/

and down/

the circles/

are an endless/

staircase going/

further on and on/

but going nowhere/

and each life is just/

another chance to die/

another chance to die again/