by Steven Queen
This is blood, not ink, my blood on this page.
Not to be! No question about it!
I am a nihilistic misanthrope that wants to
make the moon; if I don’t kill me you should.
A cheese grater or the blade?
go jugular or femoral?
Life or Death?
No choice at all
If I shot myself in the face
on the wall behind me
would read my epitaph
O sweet love!
O sweet life!
When the day comes, dump my corpse
on a deserted beach to the carrion for
wildlife; my bones will long
outlive my memory of me