He breathes in the fumes

Of all the radioactive poison he creates

Like a green skinned dragon

He kills himself slowly



It hurts him to see

All of you living without his pain

But to you he is only

The number thirteen

Haunting like a ghost



A bone faced man he is

A toxic blood man he seems

Like a moth drawn to a flame

Death calls him

As though it were a dog’s bark



He listens to music

That makes you cut your wrists

And scream like banshees

It makes him feel alive



This man is the sickness

We know as darkness

Living in his blackness

Is like jumping from a cliff



Tears can’t heal him

No matter how many

Times they fall down



Life shattered his soul

Death is too weak

His safe place is gone

He only knows how to coast numbly



Love slips through

His fingers each time

Like an eel

Through fresh mud



The door slams behind him

As he enters his home

But it holds no comfort

Only the loss of it all

We wishes he had a gun

To shoot his mouth off



Possibly he could grab

A knife from the kitchen

And slit his throat

But his hands shake

And his stomach knots

That is not the way to end



His thoughts are as clear and

Dark as tar

Sticky and grimy they are



There is no

Hope for this

Toxic man

But the image of everyone

Slitting their throats

Makes him smile