Friday, June 5, 2009

On the Fence with the Offing (apologies to Dorothy Parker)

It starts with a flash of heat,
a flushing, begging for mercy;
a grimace in anger
over some small deceit...
misperception as mountainous 
insult and flagrant degradation.

All was well a moment ago,
but weather and loneliness
and a sagging ego got in the way...
a messy disaster of a mind in clutter.

The festering smolders in a feisty
festoon of fisty cuffs... fuck it...
yes fuck is the only word coming...
taking aim in the spurt and sputter.

Why I oughta...
what? (jeers in mocking)
kill yourself? but how?

An explosion of gas and molotov,
with me as the centerpiece
of the blaze-
no, someone will have to put it out
in front of the neighbors (fuck them)

Diving headfirst into rock and shallow brook-
my luck, the neck would break without
the ending... not quite ready for pathetic
paraplegia in the maiming.

Pills and whiskey-
what's available here would only cause a 
long sleep and a wake of shame and body
fluid exudates.

Guns are out, I don't believe in them. Period.

Nooses are complicated, I can barely tied my own shoes.

Asphyxiation - no garage... and besides, where do the
rubbers tubes go anyway?

Train tracks - it's too long of a walk for now.

A slashing - I faint at the sight of my own blood,
and I'm not a real masochist anyway.

Car crash - no, someone else might get hurt. How
would I forgive myself in the afterlife.

No when all is thought and done,
there is no good way to escape
the slow pain of simply existing
in a private hell of sorts...
cigarettes and whiskey might do the trick
eventually...  it's the coward's way out.



  1. words that echo thoughts I have had

  2. There's no shame in maudlin honesty... I'm sure we're not alone.