Tonight I'm posed and popping like a peaco*k.
I'm pressing flesh.
I'm smiling big.
My spinning head sings "stop, just stop."
'cause what used to calm me down just rips my life to ribbons now.
So I keep smiling.
I find my window and quick cut out.
These days my hangman's hunger makes my gut kick.
My sleeping mind could map it blind: a flask, a key, a bag, a fifth.
I try to will myself away while shouting habits plead their case.
So when the sun seers through my eyes,
a beggar's brain can't compromise.
I splash cold water.
I draw the curtains.
I stay inside.
And I can't say that
it's a sickness,
more like a stranger I ask in
and later realize was a strangler
slipping nooses in my den.
But I was lonely, so I asked him, "could you tie that one on me?"
It wasn't his fault. I was eager and I was weak.
So as I inched towards resolution,
yeah, I'm not sure which life feels right.
The narrow noose or the wading water
the hanging head, sore open eyes.
I know my brother, he went one way and at the fork I heard him say,
"Don't you follow. don't go making my mistakes."
And I realized what he meant: don't k** yourself to raise the dead.
It never works.
You'll only end up joining them.
It never works.
You'll only end up joining them.