–For S.S.

I haven't thought about suicide since the last time I thought about suicide –

two days ago,
I fell in love with the Doppler effect:
incoming traffic blue-shifting the red light,
the frequency of the sedan's approach
ricochets between me and the bumper,
and the aluminum sky caught
my eye like everyone I've ever loved
I stayed still and
pretended my attention away.

I've been happy before –
I know what it feels like.
I'll be happy again –

I wish I believed that.

I'm always so tired,
always running a circular track in my brain.
Frantic pacing erodes into a trench,
a feedback loop and sound doesn't travel,
frequency upon frequency upon
(I'm not going anywhere.
thisisbullshit thisisbullshit thisisbullshit
i'mbullshit)
I can hear my own voice bounce back at me
distorted into an anxious buzz
(youstupidpieceofshityouuselessdumbpieceofshit
youworthlessholeinbarrengroundpieceofshit)
reverberating as I approach, following my footste-
(no one will plant flowers over your grave)

When people don't hear from me for a while
they clear their wardrobes,
pick lint from their blackest suits.

When I tell someone to put the gun down, part of me
wants to take it from them.
When I tell someone not to jump, part of me
forgets I'm afraid of heights.
When I tell someone not to overdose, part of me
loves getting high.

I guess what I'm trying to say is this
body is nutrient-rich and bullshit.


The part of my brain that loves itself is cracked –
full of it.

Someone called me cute today and
I kept seeing a smiling stranger in the mirror.

His teeth were crooked, but
he tried not to lie to me.