Epic Political Suicide Poem
Suicide plans on post-it notes
scattered on surfaces,
pieces of furniture, countertops
throughout the apartment.
Stashes of pills stockpiled,
knives sharpened, razor blades
bought in bulk, handles of
bargain brand vodka.
A cozy robe.
Should you force yourself
to wash the sheets? Change
your underwear? Does it matter?
Should you care? Could anyone
care less than you? Suicide
as backup plan when
you can’t think of anything
better to do.
Facebook is Making Me Depressed
Facebook is making me so depressed
I don't know if I can write this poem.
Angry is My Happy
I like being angry.
I like being pissed off.
The oppressor is not going
to trick me into being complaisant.
She said, “You bring the poon, we’ll bring the doom.”
She was always down for trouble.
Always in some kind of it.