existing felt like one impending catastrophe
a burning cigarette, one after the other
there were moments when i wanted
my nights to be smothered by the trickling rain
as i gazed at the molding ceiling
i wanted to breathe smoke into their lungs
because nobody left alive is meant to stay clean
i had this uncontrollable urge to cover up
my patches with bruises and cuts with scars
and while others imagined forehead kisses
i fantasized bullet wounds and torn tissues,
oozing blood and split-second animate eyes

sunday mornings felt redundant
as the sermons of claimed priests,
i am not catholic, i am not your puppet
nor is that newborn you're immersing in filthy water
i'd rather envelop myself in the world's destruction
than misguided man-made beliefs,
so never wake me up in the mornings

leave me be to choke on my own spit for breakfast
i've always felt more alive with clogged lungs
a kick in the teeth for lunch, vermilion blotches,
split lips and discoloration for supper
leave me be to walk into my own extinction
covering a thousand miles of boiling rot

life is anything but a gift,
death is what we are

n.j.