I have ridden, silent, passive,
On the shoulders of my Privilege
Well-sheltered
Full-bellied
Sure-footed and surely rebellious
Over dried ancestral footprints
That erode away a little more
Every time I leave the sprinklers on

I have flourished Wildly in my art
Donated my body
To the telling of Stories
And dissected myself
Again and again
In the name of
Great Expression

I have held Love's little finger
(Squeezed it in my fist)
Grasped It by the nape
And sunk my teeth into the tail of Its brownwool wintercoat
Crinkling aggressively
across a trail-less, crisp Red Wood

Why then
am I so
******* Suicidal all the time
?