• "A Better Life Through Complete and Total Suicide"

    I look through the hallways.
    The walls and the floor and the ceiling
    all stop me from expression.
    Matter is an anchor.
    There is too much here for me.
    Leaving me with a rather unfufilled feeling.

    This page is a boundary.
    There are sides, there are edges
    There are corners,
    and if I try to write on it more than once
    then everything is lost.

    To the reader: Destroy this after you have read this.

    There are a million skies in your eyes
    and a million eyes in your skies
    A million smiles in the stars
    and a million stars in your smiles
    It's all so physically beautiful
    but utterly repulsing to my thought in every way

    Oh, the rainbows we could represent if
    all that is solid melted into air
    if all that is holy was profaned
    if everything was nothing
    if nothing was everything
    if we could let go of matter,
    but not just let go of it,
    but destroy it.

    Science has said otherwise.
    God has chained us to the floor,
    by not letting us obliterate our anchor.

    We are held back by something
    we feel
    we are
    obligated to pay back in some way

    emote:: stiff middle finger.

    You may still enjoy the rainbow
    and you may still tell me it's beautiful
    Oh, write the most beautiful imagist
    (But the pen, the paper, the rainbow,
    and the writer
    All of you are ******** holding me back.)

    The eyes can only see so much
    the ears can only hear what they're open to
    if anything, my body is a crutch
    How sweet the release.

    This poetry is [attempted] suicide.

    How many times I have let you feel me
    but you're still so far from touching me
    It's sick;; I'm sick;; Don't I want to live?

    This poetry is suicide.