Suicide Series, Part IV

As I cut deeply

Through the pizza

The knife gets caught

On the crust

And I scream knowing

I’ve gone over the edge

And don’t know when

I’ll stop falling.

The death I felt my own was to you

But a hand on the knife. The thrust

Fulfilled in your own wordless passing.

I wondered when it would end

Then realized you already had.

I pray honesty will come more easily

To shocked lips.

My words don’t have time

To hang in mid air before

My eyes kick tears and mouth

Gasps for the air, clenching

The counter’s edge in death grip,

For relief from the pain—

Like a bang through the head—

The overdosing, numb sensation

Of losing you.

Suicide Series, Part III

Once I took a walk, I cried all the way,

In fits and spurts to the telephone pole—

I leaned—where I overheard the caprice of my sorrow

That has built to magnitudes thought improbable,

A storm, wherein the wind I chased

The memory of you, seeking out

What has gone by and finding

I can’t remember all I once knew

About you and the time we shared.

Mountains beyond mountains

From which a crimson sky did bleed

Below heaven’s shadowy fingers.

I wished the lights had not cut,

When above, a calm blue pediment,

A waxing crescent moon.

Suicide Series, Part II

I saw I missed your message

While I was distractedly chatting,

Toasting drinks, enjoying treats.

I’m holding my breath

Hoping yours has not yet gone.

As the bathroom sink holds me,

I search in the mirror to know

I am here where you are not,

Though I don’t yet know why

And no longer know my face

By the sorrow you’ve given.

You tired to tell me you were falling

By saying hello,

But I had society to attend.

I thought our plan to climb

The mountain would be enough

To keep you on the trail,

Even as the sword was hanging over head

Until you were under the rope.

Your blood has come to my eyes,

Too all our eyes, and thus we

Know you have come to be in us,

Especially tonight, my birthday.

The balloons have popped.

Suicide Series, Part I

Scratch your eyes out

To feel alive when the hand knows not its way,

When the shadows of friends keep skipping away

Leaving the tunnel half made,

You will know there’s no getting out

Of this cave without pain.

You will search in vain, following

Freshest air, the inkling of a spark,

The whispers of your prayers,

Only to find fouler darkness

As you fulfill a prophecy you never knew

Opening your irises to find

What tenderness blocks the view

Letting swell bloody tears.