090718A
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Trying to find the right way
to kill yourself,
without actually dying.
There is a trick to it,
but you have to get it right
the first time, every time,
or you don't get another chance.
If you get it right,
you get to keep on trying,
until something goes wrong.
Then someone else has to step in
to sweep up the pieces,
to tidy up the loose ends,
and to write the obituary.
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090718B
-----------
Every proposition you ever knew,
was a losing proposition,
once you figured it out
as to what was hiding behind it.
You were nothing but a target
that someone was practising with.
They were supposed to hit you,
coming and going.
That keeps you turning around,
in between the wings of any stage,
until the curtain comes down,
and the lights go out.
Penny arcade life,
watching the carnival freaks
all having a better time,
than the time of it that you got.
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090718C
-----------
There is the cutting off,
and the cutting up.
The effect of loping shears,
effecting the pruning.
Often an aesthetic decision,
as to the shape of the future,
and what is brought
to any seasonal occasion.
Some do not flower correctly,
and nothing will come of it.
Abortive fruit
that are too much trouble.
-------------------------------
140718A
------------
I don't go there anymore.
The music they played there
was never for us.
So I don't go there anymore.
I don't go there anymore.
I never could learn to like it
as to what they expected me to like.
So I don't go there anymore.
I don't go there anymore.
I never could hold up my end
of blurry smoke filled emptiness.
So I don't go there anymore.
I don't go there anymore.
I really don't know where to go,
as to looking for us.
So I don't go there anymore.
-----------------------------------
140718B
-----------
The week passes like a stone
dragged heavier and heavier,
getting nowhere up,
always early,
staying anchored
hard to the bottom,
dangling and twisting,
on that long chain,
of undulating lines.
The never ending traffic
jammed ramrod hard
into that narrowed breach,
with bumper to bumper intensity.
Concentration camp routine
that is exploding somewhere
into fatalities.
Two days spent in isolation,
and then bump and grind
the same hopeless route,
to pay for the emptiness
that keeps you going.
No one wants your type,
and you can advertise
until you drop dead,
gone long past the date
that says best before.
Keep refrigerated
if opened.
You tried repackaging,
switching the wrapper,
but they read the label,
disliking all your ingredients.
They want a moustache on,
and ranting from a podium
before they salute anything
as much as your shadow.
Leaving you struggling to hide
what it really looks like;
away from prying eyes.
Don't know your way around
the way you used to.
Wandering aimlessly
seems to approach too near
to what appear to be criminal acts,
largely ignored,
invasions of privacy:
entering their personal space
the way mice invade a house.
You can nibble on that,
and forever feel empty.
Bits and bites of conversations,
that do not lead to anything,
beyond wanting to get away
from meaningless sounds,
all saying the same thing
about the same disinterest.
You get to match up the pieces
with other fragments
of puzzles.
Uniforms and badges
would make it so much easier,
as to defining relationships.
To properly distinguish the prisoners
from their guards.
Brain throbs its beat,
disheartened and dulled,
to muffled shots,
reverberating hollow points
of literal despair,
echoing across centuries
of what never changes,
no matter how you try to change it.
They won't let you,
make any real connections.
Leaving you to whores and dealers
waiting for your capitulation.
They lurk on street corners,
promising easy get aways,
from what you cannot escape
in any available offerings.
I do not know of anywhere
that you can get to from here,
and no point asking directions.
Something will surely kill you,
long before you are discovered,
by any rescue party
conducting an actual search.
You will simply run out of time,
and it will all be the same,
as running out of oxygen,
long before you can surface.
A stranglehold condition
that you cannot break loose from,
pulls you down.
It tells you clearly what it means
to be cut loose and cut down.
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