My feet face the drop
hands on my thighs...
never commit suicide
from a sitting position.
Never suicide.
Always life.
Die on the grill of a truck,
no suicide just a stupid
form of antitheses
called luck.
We find our end soon enough.
“Choosing to die,” when you’re young
isn’t “blunt” enough
Keep the crowd angry
they like to throw stones
You ever been stoned?
What are you killing?
Until you know that
You are not yet
a wrinkled old man
passing through a birth canal
into his next mothers arms.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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a wrinkled old man
passing through a birth canal
into his next mothers arms.
further evidence that we'd be lost without those fair(er) creatures
the second half made me reconsider the first, perhaps this is social suicide. someone takes the risk lightly, and ends up making nothing of it at all (just death without the true avante guard).
thanks for giving me my daily confusion
-Maj
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mmmm this is interesting, what a lot of ways to die, a wonderful poem "never commit suicide
from a sitting position" thats brilliant, i never thought about it that way, in my mind I always see myself shooting myself in the head (yeah like double vision, 2 of me one pops the other) the one that dies is always sitting, never commit suicide from a sitting position, granted you probably meant jumping off a cliff from your ass feet first but still....unique way to think about it
great poem 
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