i think to myself death take me
take me away from this ugly world
all i get is silence
i flick open my pocketknife
the cold sharp blade is a relief
death please
i start to cut my skin
death take my soul
blood starts to drip deep red
death take my heart
press deeper with the blade
death take my life
with a clink of metal on the tiled floor
the ****** knife came to rest
death
departing from this world i thanked death
and said goodbye to everyone
death why are you so simply complicated?

1680

Sometimes with the Heart
Seldom with the Soul
Scarcer once with the Might
Few—love at all.

I sang to you and the moon
But only the moon remembers.
     I sang
O reckless free-hearted
          free-throated rythms,
Even the moon remembers them
     And is kind to me.

I watch the house come down
like a vengeful wave crashing
against my barefoot shore.

I don't know if
I wore my grey shirt
or the blue one with checks.

I can't tell from the dust caking
my chest; beating loudly I
put my hand to it

as if searching for my heart
in the shirt pocket;
I fumble

and feel nothing there.
I'd kept a picture of you there
in the breastpocket of my grey shirt

close to my heart.
And not any more, but a familiar ache;
left are these buttons of your last touch

and your breath in these threads.
You don't know that once you breathed into the sky
it just wasn't yours to take away.

One good thing you did
and end of day
you are a man.