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THE IMMACULATE SUICIDE

dressed for my own funeral again

black suit and tie, I've died so many times without amends

I can't count the ways I've started over and then

the shadows of wasted loves show teeth and rend

 

cracking my spine in convulsing shakes chewing on faith that breaks

and it takes all of my fleeting strength to out swim the wakes

the drowning, dingy echoes of fake affection and birthday cakes

when there was no connection between us but the quakes

 

and you don't know who I am now in my disparity

any more than I remember who I set out to be

 

stressed and smoking too often, new nails in the coffin

black tar and coughing because the fists never soften

beaten so bad my heart won't beat if I can hear you talking

on the other end of a phone when the tears aren't stopping

 

the eulogy for a wasted man sounds like loved one's bitter tones

that don't understand that a dead man is free from what caring owns

and the soil not drinking one tear won't notice one more set of bones

but in the darkness, the silence, the solitude, I'll bury what my demons condone

 

to the praises of others you raised us but you were no mother

handing out soul snuffing black eyes that still won't let me recover

why did it have to be you; wicked you, split in two and not another?

schizophrenic, stick it in and twist it, breaking me and a lonely brother

 

it's you I'm burying in this soil

because I'm half you so I too and spoiled

like you, I am halved by my bipolar turmoil

giving up on surviving anymore with this blood that boils

 

ashes to ashes

dust to dust

the last of my crashes

because burying you is my final lust

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Written by
brandon-barnett
American
Published
Jun 13, 2014
Lines·Words
30·305
Permission

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