In my darkest days.

November 2, 2011

Certainly one of the most depressing pieces I have ever written. Fed up with the common place. Fed up with routine. Fed up with myself. I think. Although if you write a poem about suicide instead of doing the deed then there is some optimism. In my darkest days I always tried to remember that I had to hold out for my friends. No use planting some stupid idea in their head. That’s kind of the domino theory of suicide. You don’t want to be responsible for other’s actions… And then something else happened.




bought a blowtorch

at 4 thirty at the hardware

to clear the cobwebs away



found four spiders crawling

out of suzanne’s mouth.

Said that if it happened once more

she would no longer put up with my shortcomings.


Jimi’s buddy is a sniper on our block,

feeds his alligator

slow fingers.


Haven’t filled out my income tax yet

eyes r cryin

arms r cryin

legs r cryin

what’s goin on?


“wonder if its living that makes you sick or gets you better.”

the last words grandpa said


he let the razor rescue him.


We pulled on our rubber galoshes

carried him up from the basement

into the backyard

took him back behind the abandoned cars

and buried him

in the compost heap.

3 Responses to “In my darkest days.”

  1. Yes it is dark, but I can relate… “wonder if its living that makes you sick or gets you better.”

  2. SEO said

    Great stuff! I have subscribed to your rss feed which must do the trick! Have a nice day!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: