suicide bunny

she's probably unsatisfied

read it in the liner notes of her morning song

it's not a joke but it feels like it

like too much coffee

like twenty-one dying a slow death at thirty-four

some broke but i kept the change

and Escher on acid gave a vague sense of that mortality

i couldn't rhyme it, i wouldn't bother with

hey now, my singing voice

vaulting low fences in an escape attempt

avoided searchlights, but not the hedges

left a trail all through the flowerbed and out the rose bouquet

so while she's wishing, wishing, wishing on a star crash landing

(leave the impact to the inhabitants, something like that)

rudimentarily destructive, us animals at play

          to her, my own

roller coaster reactions, hands up on the big drop

i simply missed like a free throw attempt from the wrist of Ben Wallace

and it's not as if the fall was unpleasant

the altitude was decent, plenty of time to scream our lungs dry

          i was yesterday all day

i was stolen pointless stories and piss warm beer

it's like i lost my breath

had to lean against a street sign, corner of Flanger and Coxsack Avenue

feeling like it might be maybe a wake up in the county jail morning

f**k it, all 'cause i lost my favorite toy soldier

in the backyard dirt patch, Mazda less the burnt grass

and Samardzija, on the hated North Side

put a quit to my hit streak at fifty-two

she's probably set unicorn straddled

among rainbows and cupcakes in a verdant open

where the horizon is infinite and growing

i don't want answers

i just want peace