Aiming the World at My Throat

Dazed with pornographic films on loop
and enough whiskey
to murder
a family of 4—I plunge, I plunge, I plunge

endlessly,


holding the razor steady—
the first one since the sore-infested 2018,
to disengage myself from happiness.

Disengaged, disengaged eternally.
I wouldn't find peace
inside your urn
either.

I join the bloodless
in their eternal exile by throwing
myself down the bottom
with my hands
cut off
to
never crawl back
out again.