Shiny surgical steel honed to the perfection of a razor's edge

Severing veins and tendons below the track marks

Then falling to the cold hard tiles of the bathroom floor

Cold and hard ... like living on

The source of this end to a means

Lies reflecting all that blood

And brand new sunlight that God keeps throwing

Into your cocaine eye

At 6:00 in the morning on a sunny summer Sunday


The beauty of this day just making you seem so much


Than you really are


Look at your bloody wrist

Through the haze of

Rage tears

Hurt tears

Hate-the-self tears

In your eyes

And ask yourself...

NO -- not why --

NEVER why...

You ask yourself if you should have tried your neck

This is taking far 




And so few stories ... that are true ... have happy endings