The Suicide Trip

Black and huge,
The ghosts of anger rise
I am not surprised
I saw them coming from miles away
The choking feeling in me
Is my soul screaming
Wrapped in fucking chains of silver
This is no life
This is no life
We were promised more than this
This is not it
This is shit!
This is just impotent anger
And I am made of it.
If, just if I had a gun
It would be fun
To place it in my mouth
Kiss its barrel
Feel the end so close
And think about it, without pulling the trig
The end, beautiful.
-=-=-=-=-
Whatever. I am not going to hold myself back if I become a bad
impression on the kids, or if people get offended by my words, or if
people kill themselves on reading these poems. Fuck it.

Featured @ Writer's Corner :)

Dear readers, friends, haters, lovers, poets and small animals of
different sizes. Our amazing rhyming talents are finally seeing the
light of the day on the InterWebs!
The very nice and super polite Ofira Sephiroth at www.amasbury.com
told me that she'd like to feature Follow in her blog's Spotlight
section. That made me happy. She mailed me today again to tell me that
Follow is up at her blog's Spotlight section at
http://amasbury.com/writerscorner/spotlight.html. Now you can also be
happy and make her happy by going to her blog and saying Hi!!

Cheers!

Poems shall resume their irregular course :)