I paint a pretty picture
On the base of my wrist
With my razor and red liquid
My hand clenched into a fist

I do one stroke for everything I hate
Everything that gets me down
I do one stroke for everything that turns my ugly smile
Into an even uglier frown

One stroke for promises
That are very often broken
Then one stroke for love not returned
When someone throws away my kind token

Another stroke goes on my wrist
For all the unfairness in this time
Things go good for one split second
And go bad for months at a time

A stroke for all the people I can't stand
A stroke for all the unfairness in this time
A stroke for all the stupidity in this world
A stroke for all the guns
That **** all those innocent people

I use this razor to  show the things I hide inside
One more stroke and I'm dead
Guess what
*I hate committing suicid- ...

Suicidal Thoughts
by Shani Jonas

I paint a pretty picture
on the base of my wrist
with my razor and some red liquid
and my hand clenched into a fist

I do one stroke for everything thing I hate
everything that gets me down
I do a stroke for everything that turns my ugly smile
into an even uglier frown

I do one stroke for promises
that are very often broken
There is one stroke for love not returned
When someone throws away your kind token

another stroke goes on my wrist
for all the unfairness in this time
things go good for a second
and go bad for months at a time

A stroke for all the people I can’t stand
a stroke for all the harm done
a stroke for all stupidity in the world
a stroke for all the guns

that **** all those innocent people
I use this razor to show the things that I hide inside
one more stroke and I’m dead...
*A stroke for committing suicid--

so much blood
oranges,
from the late summer nights spent awake.

so many scars
on the kneecaps of children,
fallen on hot pavement.

so much hatred
of green head flies,
buzzing in the hot air.

so many ways out
of the corn maze,
far into the field.

so much pain
from sunburns,
from being out in the sun too long.

                                                                    so many suicid-
                                                                    al thoughts,
                                                                    created over that summer.

Hello. So...

I see you're writing - good -
of love and nicotine in ink
and ****** threads, like vapor
swirling down the sink
of dreams and dying hopes
and burning for a drink
aching lust for perfume
that leaves a ling'ring stink
of epic love and romance
chained with iron link
of standing in a storm
or skating thinnest rink
being on a bridge
or breaking on a brink
bemoan that no one listens
but don't say what you think
a soulful galactic pull, or
stars suicid'ing wink -

tell me how you know so much, poet...
      when you've been here but a blink.

.
.
.
.
.        
  suicid