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Literature Text
This medication may have severe side effects,
if you feel suicidal please call the local emergency services.
Yes, I want to die, I've wanted to die since I tried to suffocate myself with a pillow
at the age of nine, at twelve I drank nail polish remover and spent the afternoon
vomiting lemon-burning up my throat.
This medication tells me, Die now, it's time, but
it also says, You need to take the garbage out and
how long has the baby been napping
and did you want to write a poem about it, a hundred
poems about the fact that you want to die and cannot
hold the weight of the gun.
if you feel suicidal please call the local emergency services.
Yes, I want to die, I've wanted to die since I tried to suffocate myself with a pillow
at the age of nine, at twelve I drank nail polish remover and spent the afternoon
vomiting lemon-burning up my throat.
This medication tells me, Die now, it's time, but
it also says, You need to take the garbage out and
how long has the baby been napping
and did you want to write a poem about it, a hundred
poems about the fact that you want to die and cannot
hold the weight of the gun.
Literature
maybe i'll die for the truth
when i was seven, i forgot how to be a kid, and i grew up, and once you grow up, you rarely grow down. when i was fourteen, you told me i made you sad to talk to, and that i should cheer up and look around at all the beautiful things in the world, but you can't see the beauty in things that sicken you. you can't pretend that the world is alright when people are dying and starving and crying and wars are being fought and the right people are losing and the wrong ones are winning-you can't see beauty in these types of things.
when i was seventeen, you told me i was beautiful, but the wrong kind. and i thought, how can you be the wrong kind of
Literature
How I Live Now
Bald plastic limbs were guided through the forest
green of your dress. Each button-snap, a reassurance,
angles were everything, the mannequin-like
collarbone was symmetry to skin, breast and waist,
body now thinned, weighs heavy. The first incision
is blood-less, literally splits you apart as they peel
open the cold husk of you. First
years orchestrate body biology, muscle braids,
explore left and right ventricles and the quiet
atriums of your heart. I say, 'I'm so sorry, just
completely sorry.' Loosening the chest muscles,
cutting the elastic lines running towards the sternum.
Your spinal cord resembles the start and end poi
Literature
It's everything...
I've found a spot where the floor creaks just for me.
I sit & wait there
for the boards to collapse,
for my unannounced visit
to the neighbors.
I sit & wait
at lights, and in lines,
and in conversations
that go in circles.
I sit & wait for the music to end,
just so that I can go home.
I keep quiet as the world sleeps;
afraid to wake someone up,
afraid to sleep alone.
I've built a routine
dependent on falling apart
and still somehow manage
to be surprised
by every last bitter goodbye,
by every last haunting regret,
by every last
last word.
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