Myspace Suicide

Sometimes I’m disciplined
and think about
how suicide happens.
I think about words
past lovers spoke
to purposely hurt me,
things about eternal flaws,
things that are unredeemable.
I go to a field in France
to shoot myself
in the heart
or die in my sleep,
in a cold winter apartment
in New York City,

behind walls that creek,
for lovers who
left me
I drank and drank
on a thirty day binge,
my body bloated badly,
no one ever saw me again.
For those final weeks
I was alone with my booze.

This is what the words of
another human can do.


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