sundays are my suicide days

by suicidallyanonymous

In the pit of your stomach,
miracle pills dissolve
to consume your liver
like a vulture.
When you die,
they will pluck your eyebrows
and turn your eyelids
inside out.

You can stare at horror
in the face,
with crayon fingers
folded over
your canvas heart,
as it tears against
the ribs in your chest.

Pressed haphazardly
against the stagnant pulse
of yesterday’s summer,
brittle leaves
of a skyscraper tree
turn to muddy ash
when mixed
with the kiss of snow.

2 Comments to “sundays are my suicide days”

  1. We manage darkness by writing about it . . .

If you enjoyed the poem. please leave a comment.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: