Quaffing tampons

A Poem by Maxwell Ryder

Nov. 4, 2017

People jump off buildings
Not to see beauty;
They need height,
And velocity.
Youth are on a travel
Odyssey
To smoke the Oort Cloud;
They are the bullet,
The roof is the revolver;
The ledge is the chamber,
The leg steps beyond,
rushes the hammer,
headlong, to the pin
Passing all the scenery
In a rush to get below,
To griddle an egg
On a cold pan,
Sunny-side up;
Kids daredevil death
Just to be the
Life of viral feeds;
They drink to liquor
The slick hollows
Of empty pride;
Girls do shots
Upside-down
From their twats,
As they quaff
their tampons;
They refuse to feel,
not to walk
dead inside.
Words hurt
More than they lead on;
And no childhood
rhyme shields
Or deflects
The bully’s bullet,
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