say if i pry open the boarded windows and feel the light
for molding the shape of death may have formed him between my ribs
if i have tried all that im able to and i succeed
never thumb back to these words; they are too sick for the heavenly being you have become
and if i have tried all that im able to and i fail or break even
then still never return here and read this
march out into the brush with your pistol
lock the barrel behind your front teeth
and become beautiful
i cannot bring myself to believe in an afterlife
so i know no one will ever see me again
For the best