Sorry, can't.
Too much to be done.

Got bills:
a mortgage, loans,
a boat.

Got kids to clothe,
a cat to feed,
a wife to entertain.

Got a lawn to mow,
hedges to clip,
a car to wax.

Got an office party
on the docket.
Bowling league,
tennis at the club.

Got quarterly reports,
license applications,
weekly meetings.

Got vacations to plan,
family to visit.

Got books to read,
trails to bike,
birds to identify.

And all that good air
to breath.

So no, I can't die.
Not today.

Sometimes the best ideas come when you paint
yourself into a corner,
it forces you to sprout wings
and fly your way out.

He survived the firefights
and near misses,
so many that his brothers-in-arms
thought he was charmed,
invisible to Death

Came home after
his third and final tour
and died with a gun in his mouth

In this one, the psychopath isn't Hannibal Lechter,
instead he's intellectually challenged.
But that doesn't stop him from causing mayhem.

Feel free to go with it.

It's an event and you're fully invested:
the gala at the museum,
the marquee match-up at the arena,
opening night at the theater.

You circle the date on the calendar.
You buy tickets close to the action.
You listen to commentary.
You cheer and follow along.
Yes, you're fully invested.

Just don't look away.
If you do, you'll realize,
it's already over.

Just double the regular price,
slap on a Fifty Percent off sticker
and call it even. Hah!

What do I know about horses?
What do I know about the female point of view?
What do I know about how mathmaticians think?

What do I know about Quantum Mechanics?
What do I know about the Appalachian Trail?
What do I know about a mother's rage?

"Write what you know," advises the manual.
Okay.

So let's forget about the horses.
And the article on Reverse Transcription.
Oh what the heck!
Let's just forget about the poem altogether.

Forget it.