I have been reading books about suicide

murder and love

For the first time

since i can remember

I have been dreaming when i sleep

it’s a new sober dawn

and I wait all night

for that something

burring myself between pages of books

bleeding secrete thoughts

into secrete journals

sometimes it seems it’s all for the birds

and i should be out living these novels

and learn to write later

but I have no concept of what is right

today, I found out I was a nihilist

and tomorrow I might be a Christian

everything is backwards

I want to love

and then murder

then for my grand finally

suicide

wouldn’t that be perfect

can you imagine me, a headline

in a dream i had last night

I shot myself in the gut

and then put a slug in my stomach

so my lover to stay

I woke up waiting for her

but I know she is never coming

It is ash Wednesday and instead of giving up Christianity

like i usually do

I’m going to give up romanticism

so let me spill the facts

with out a smudge of soot on my forehead

my eye twitches and my arm shakes

and threw my veins

runs the blood of coward

leading to a heart that has only hurt

I cried last night and when it comes

it takes over and i have no control

I can hardly speak

so i went to sleep

disturbed by dreams

I wake and wait

not wanting you to show

or see that I’m to weak

to harvest your orchids