When I feel trapped on the land,
I’m looking for anyone to lend a hand.
They’re just too scared of me,
knowing that I belong back in the sea.
I struggle, thrash and flop with all my might;
a shark on land doesn’t feel quite right,
and I can’t win this fight.

I’ve got no qualms with man,
but trapped on shore was not my plan.
Whatever will be will be,
but can’t someone roll me back into the sea?

They’ve seen great whites and nurse,
but whatever class I am I’ve got it worse.
I walk but they know I’d rather swim,
I happened upon shore on just a whim.
Drying out from my nose to tail,
can’t they see I’m not threat, I’ve gotten frail?
They’re so scared they’re turning pale.

I’ve got no qualms with man,
just wish one would stop me from getting a tan.
If I could speak I would plea,
“can’t someone roll me back into the sea?”

Barely moving, but still giving it my best,
I count the phones documenting my distress.
They look on caught almost in a trance,
mistaking my movement for some type of dance.
But they’re just too scared of me,
even though I’m struggling to breathe,
hear how I huff and heave?

I’ve got no qualms with man,
no issue with their ways or lifespan.
I wish they felt the same for me,
so can’t someone roll me back into the sea?

Life is the greatest killer of all.
Cancer. Sickness. ******.
Wellness to illness, function to dysfunction:
Two sides of the same coin toss.

The greatest civil rebellion lasted
122 years, give or take, yet
In all the struggle few realize that the true oppressor
Is always enslaved to a certain animal within.

Our ancestors die, our rivals die, our sisters die,
We've been choosing death all along.
Look at our blood: from tree to house to ash
And mammal to mammal to dirt to memory.

All things before the sun, that great heap of ******,
Will have the color drained from them.

The great white is an event
Of the great blackness. And when it explodes . . .

And there's a lesson to be told here,
Call it 1.1.
There is a lucky infinity
Of the few who, unlike us, life
Didn't take them, and there is a growing infinity
Of us the many who death will take. I fear
That there will be a great war
To ruin the eternities that dot the night skies,
The Olympians. I fear a great war
Where infinite darkness both ways
Will finally collapse -
And us in the middle, the living,
This star chained away
By space and time and
The magnificence of its light,
Breathing away every last drop -
Will fail,
And the ******* bang will stretch out in both ways
As a final ******* to existence.
And that'll be the end of it.

******* you to hell.
You smolder inside my chest
Crying like an abandoned puppy,
Even my blood wants to get away from you.
You claim everything's yours, yours
To feel for, like a blind man, stumbling,
You are an emotional wreck. You
Brazen bull, I never cease to hear
The screams of agony that you burn.
It's so bad I could even smell the crisp
Of human flesh. It empties me of all hunger.
The air burns wherever I let it, but that
Always beats your burn, that is like the iron
At the center of the Earth. I hate you.
You burn. You burn my love notes,
My apologies, you burn my hatred,
My love, my time. You burn my dreams.
You are their crematorium. And I hate you
For forcing me around you
No matter how much I want you out.
I hate you,
And I hate you even more
For making me forget why,
My rumination seeping out
Replaced by "Fine.
Let's see how you do on your own."

This sorrow,
This song can't pierce.
This sorrow
Is rock-hard water.
It is two rooks
Fire and air each -
I feel their fingers
Dig under my arms
And make me fly.
This sorrow
Is my patience.

It's all I've ever had.

Somebody come and pick me up
(the heart of the bird is the weight of the bird)
I've been sinking into the universe
(the size of a needle eye)
And I'm beginning to really, really lie
With my autonomic nerves
And their will to life.

I'm depression. As real, as light,
As dark. As feeling, as air, as
Light. I'm as real as the sun
That isn't there. I'm as heavy
As its nowhere-
Ness. I'm the sum of sub-
Tracting parts, I'm the price
Of hell, a worthless dream.

My life
Is found, when life
Finds meaning (when was it lost?)
If you think
That means
It was me
Who gave
Up on God. . .
I gave everything
And nothing he returned to me.

Death to the saviors.
Death to the sayers.
Death to the forsakers.
   Nothing to arrogant nothing.

The greatest ******* pain
Is your child,
When he was just born,
And inside you,
And later, when he
Disappointed you.

You tried so hard,
Gave it a name,
Something you wanted it to be,
Gave it food and water - Your
Food and water,
And for your birthday,
You get a coffin.

Life
*****,
As the saying goes.
And I guess
Death is the Doctor
Who draws your blood
To replace some other blood.
As the saying goes
Around.

But maybe
Our dreams will get us somewhere,
When the end comes, when we sink our bones
Into that pillow the Earth, and in a thousand
The sun will abandon, and make it
No longer daydreaming.


But until then,
Let them **** each other.
So-called "family."

Born into a box ruled by someone else’s fine print.

Where can I go to die,  with dignity?   in peace?
The sad truth is there ISN'T a place.

No one ever sees that, even when it is time
for it to be in their face.

We cannot leave this world the way we would like.
Rules and laws govern us from the point of *******,  now.
Didn’t matter what you wanted, or how you lived, anyhow.

Euthanasia applies to every creature BUT us.
How is that even reasonable? Why don't we  have a solution that's feasible ?

There should be a pill, a process, an injection.
Something clean, nonviolent.  Something a family member could discover without unnecessary trauma and mess . Not a rope  or gun or a car exhaust ,
and more stress.

If mercy is written for the beasts and not the people,
then burn the fine print.
Tear up
the contracts.
Polite cruelty? as if suffering needs proof,
as if the idea, the desire for dignity needs permission.
  Respect   the person ,  choice  and decision.

Teach the world, starting with the U.S.,
a new word for human ending
not a disgusting, painful, lonely surrender of life, or suffering , depending,
A choice in  passing that preserves whatever semblance of dignity remains.  
A grant for  freedom  to decide  how  and  when.
After all it's love
not sin.

You want to die?
I know what that's like.
When you want to -
Not to know what it's like to die,
But so you know what it's like to be dead.
I know what that's like.
Life has ***** your future,
And now you want to make your future
Something life can't ****. I know
What that's like. When you
Can give up easier
Than you can breathe, see,
Feel - Because every
Single
Moment,
Is filled with life,
Your broken life
Like broken glass.
A trail you walk,
And clouds of glass particles
Imbue the air you breathe.
And your hope is like a glass
Before it was ever made.

I know what that's like.
Life broke up with you -
And reality came crashing in
Like a stone. You didn't know
Blood could fracture.
                                 And now,
You know, too
That no matter what you do
Life goes on,

                                                   Elsewhere.

Laugh, Pagliaccio.

For sorrow now knocks,
and racks upon you
its thousand woes

Laugh, Pagliaccio.

As the mourning dew,
adorns your withered rose

Laugh, Pagliaccio.

For the thorny nest,
now covets.
That blackened heart

Laugh, Pagliaccio.

As from this bed,
you’ll never come to wrest;
Ever-nested in ****** vines.
You’ll writhe, each ****** day.
So forgo any and all hopes of rest
And—

Laugh, Pagliaccio.

Whilst the furrows deepen,
and the time for tears, comes down weepin’,
to dole over joys no more leapin’,
joys that strain, under sadness, now seepin’,  
As unsown fruits ripen;
and become the unworthy’s reapin’

Truly,
heartbreak’s come
and taken all—
worth keepin’

Laugh, Pagliaccio.

Not for the people’s pay,
no—
for the fool that you are,
swayed as you were,
like child’s play.

Laugh, Pagliaccio.

The people restless;
clamour, bicker and fight.
In wait for their beloved Pagliaccio;
the clown with wit and humour rife.
So adorn your mug with that ghastly white,
and let them gaze.
Upon the clown of wit and humour rife;
not a man suffering under muted plight,
nor one vengeful;
of horrors, in spite.

For you, by fate have been chosen,
to carry,
this chip and blight.
Now, heavy heart, make light
and brave these jagged waters,
that ill-humour has tasked you smite

Go now!
Caper in. To the jester’s tent.
But beware;
be not seen under the searing light.