suicide is bodily autonomy. im all dressed up with nowhere to go

sometimes i can’t tell what’s real because all i have are five million ways of looking at it. subjectivity is hard man. my mind’s all tied up with dead leaves dead ends and no place to go

suicide is bodily autonomy but i would never let anyone else win that argument. i would die for them to not believe that. but i’m out of steam with nowhere to go

thoughts for an endpoint (not a dead end):

i would live for someone to believe they should too.

and now, where to go?

love from bluesy

the golden cast on older days

the rose tint on your lens today

the bright spot of a hazy future

the blue skies of come-what-may

the greener grass of the other side

the foggy gray no-space of your insides

the television static always in the dark

the purple spots when you squeeze shut your eyes

the sunshine of the one you love

the shadows cast by absence above

the apple of your eye, core and all

the wreckage inside when push comes to shove

the silver linings that start to shine through

they’ll warm to gold like most olden days do

they’ll be the light you once couldn’t make out

but oh, the dull present, and oh, how time flew

bluesy

the maggots are coming out of the woodwork

there must be something underneath the boards

for the woodlice and termites and beetles

have eaten inwards from outside the oak floors

the maggots are coming out from the woodwork

their mouths full of rotting flesh

there must be something behind the panels

a tresspasser or long-forgotten guest

the maggots don’t eat wood floor panels

the scientists say they only eat meat

we’ve ignored them for a good long long while

and now we’re eating our words, and in for a treat

the maggots are eating the resident

(they have identified the body as such)

the flesh was bloated and eaten in places

but that it lived there, they know as much

the maggots crawl through the woodwork

those carved boards of rich design

which creak and swell as the body distends

their slats no longer aligned

the woodcarver, a gifted artist

came from far away

his labor was greatly appreciated

and it was announced he was given fair pay

the termites chewed through the woodwork

which was meant to muffle the screams

the screams are gone but the house still echoes

as the creatures chatter and teem

the woodwork has lost both lustre and worth

splintered cabinets lay in disarray

the carrion carries on festering

the house its coffin, and hell to pay

cz

[to be illustrated in future]

two of one and three of another

this one will make you say that you love her

just one of these and you'll feel much less tired

but also once a month you'll be extra wired

this one will crumble under your tongue

taste cherry childhood as it runs through your gums

one for your stomach and one for your liver

some will get stuck like rocks in a river

one kind needs another to work

too much of the round ones will make your legs jerk

when this one stops working you'll think of sad things

but it won't feel sad, just empty, and you'll remember she sings.

this one will make you forget that you miss her

but you'll never forget the first time that you kissed her

don't take it too much or your thoughts might crack

time might not be real but there's no going back

-z~mjmrms

away with the light, away, away

cling to the still, the dark to stay

bury and burrow, down’s the way

in muffled quiet, decay, decay

peace needs no light, so away, away.

away with your hands, away away

for miles and years, allow them to stray

spidering, scuttling, or at idle play

their penchant for business won’t let you just lay

so away with your hands, away, away.

away with your heart, away away

its strings striking chords you’d rather belay

hold its beat still, allay allay

that heartbreak and ache, keep at bay

away with the heart, away, away.

no more solid ground, away away

anchors all lifted, aweigh, aweigh

alee from the storm with your thoughts at bay

batten the hatches ’gainst them, away, away.

away with the world, away, away

away with all worries, each day, each day

no good is left, and no bad will stay

good riddance to voices of hope or dismay

away, with you all, away.

z

inhale the dust of another planet

you’re on galactic high speed transit

couldn’t’ve worked better if i planned it

can’t see the sun ’cause son i am it

scraping plate and sucking thumbprint

tastes like id and red-striped white mints

reap some grass and forage magic

you get the wood, i’ll rockhound black flint

ill hold the bowl, hold back my hair

drag the clouds for a foggy stare

the air’s in me and i’m in the air

me and the world make such a pair

don’t press too hard you’ll crush my spirit

cut it just right and we’ll both feel it

i’ll drool candy on your face just to smear it

there’s no Bad in this space baby so no need to fear it

trust fall to earth, down where it’s moonlit

feel your tongue again as your tooth chews it

blink at the last star before you lose it

with no options but this life, i’d still choose it

z

i danced with the devil while the fiddle man played

he sold his soul but i gave mine away

he struck a deal and mine was for free

i danced with the devil and he danced with me

didn’t see a tail but he sure had horns

and i got the wrath of seven gals scorned

i ate the fruit with the favor returned

it went down sweet while my outside burned

we danced in circles of sin and lust

his scales were red but i swear he blushed

i stole my baby back across the styx

while the devil slept on level six

i danced with the devil and he’ll miss me

but he didn’t buy me, my love is free

we climbed out of hell, my baby and me

no pillar nor salt grain, our love is free

people will be very proud of you when you are doing well. they always knew you could do it. when you sink down they try not to be disappointed. they know they you have it in you to rise up. when you do not, it becomes hard for them to be personally invested in this. they wish you the best.

they hear you are doing well. they are happy for you. they knew you could do it. they knew you were not a lost cause. they knew you could rise above your sickness.

you sink again.

they say “well she struggled, you know.” (they do not say it to you). it’s no longer their problem. “she had a lot going on.” you are forgiven for doing badly and tolerated from afar for doing bad. why should they support someone who is so fucked up and isn’t a positive force for all the people in their life? your sickness is not an excuse.

they will reassure themselves. why should they tolerate you and your sickness. they have to prioritize themselves. they never promised to support all the symptoms. they will support your recovery from afar. they will cheer your community on and hope for a cure for your sake, for everyone else’s sake, and for theirs.

c

thanks for the well-wishes on your way out the door

i’m sorry for becoming a chore

it must be so hard for you, that internal war

to not know what to do, more and more

on one hand you don’t want to leave a friend in need

on the second it’d be nice to feel freed

if they hadn’t picked up the knife maybe they wouldn’t bleed

they rejected good health, you’re just taking their lead

of course you believe in unwavering support

you’re all for righteousness when it’s in public court

but it’s taken a toll and you feel out of sorts

but of course that doesn’t change your everlasting support

z