Suicide note

I stopped in insolence

At the sign, the stubborn

Sight of which i felt more

Than heard, i was betrayed

By its lack of ambivalence

The way it marked me

Without blemish or retribution

But careened against weakness

And softness within, it was a horror

The knowledge that i was seen

Even if it was approximate like this

I was more than distressed and dead

It was what people call apocalypse

Without the religious mumbo jumbo

A way of seeing that was not

A way of being that was not

A way of ending that was

Grace now

grace now

 

delicate the demand in me

and oh how sovereign

it runs raging, relent

until it finds the margins

of silence

 

grace

this is my substitute

the breast in holy metaphor

it is suckling and nesting

to give suck

suck

i thread an ancient chord

it is an undone umbilicus

substrata in a void

and i am the neophyte

without and within

the supple sounds

 

it is holding a hand

and letting it slip

and wanting it again

 

 

Hope

hope

 

has no feathers

it is a plague

plucked from the heart

of a damning god

it rests not

has no rite

relentless as a fugue

its sings and will not cease

its gory hallelu

with furtive intent

i first heard its macabre plea

as a boy in a room

i liked it and let it hold me

it left and returned

like an insecure christ

returning with rapture

as look i back

the faith has left me

i am impotent

as the god

of this very thing

bellicose and stung

at night she returns

inhabits me

whispering nothings

if i listen, escapes

if i dumb struck

entangles once again

once in death

i fall into dust

and even there

sings and sings

ascendant

without a feather

in sight