My periods turn to semicolons
My suicide notes to poetry
My goodbyes became hellos
The blades turn to sunflowers
And the bullets, a rose
My heart still is broken
But the pieces have been found
Death isn’t for me anymore
What is, in the here and now
I still don’t feel enough
But I am alive
And that’s enough to say
Today is not the day I die.

Being stub-born
is the person such born?

Call me the crow that caught his -
reflection
Tapping the glass with heightening -
aggression
Warning a newcomer to flee at once
'Tis a curious blackbird with the face -
of a dunce ..

The collective elective
Threw a bag of human waste
On the White House steps,
Torched it,
And stuck around to watch it burn
Live,
On TV.

https://soundcloud.com/catullusrp/keepsnappin