my blood clots too fast
to kill myself
(I just found that out)
and my hearts too strong
to just die out from pills
so, basically I’m stuck here
without a gun
(I’m a nut! !)
the nurse thinks it’s “pretty cool”
and “pretty neat” that I write poetry
how funny—
now the whole world is going to patronize me
(is this what I asked for or what)
wow—
‘if my mama could see me now’ (she’d cry)
the doors are wide open
and I’m naked with a pen and a pad
how sad it is that I couldn’t have just died
I’m just alive with a new bill to add to my collection
when my bill collectors call, I’ll just say, “not to my recollection.”
maybe I should’ve just moved away.
man, what will my dad think of me
and my aunt and uncle.
I’ll just be an embarrassment
(and now the doctor wants me to talk to a ‘specialist’)
specialize in what,
fixing a nut
or maybe paying all my bills
and forcing people to love me
like they say they will