I Don'T Want To Die Like Other Poet's - Poem by James McLain
Without a tether lost in space and why
it is they can't see me.
Each sentence I write runs on and on
I've been afraid of the dark since
Living in the far south
I don't have a gas stove to stick my head in.
Looking ahead like a horse I plod on.
No house or a car
inside a garage theres no hose
that runs from the exhaust through the window
I've heard others turned true blue cyanotic.
Having never cut my wrists
I have always hatted that kind of attention.
The strange smell of hemp
how far does one go when you drop through
air and they cut you down
while still alive and embarrassed what do you say?
In back of the head there is padding
for that single shot from a rifle or a hand gun
that leaves a red and pink mess I have seen it.
Walking into the sea
once again in the womb how'd I breath it before?
Take your pick poet's have never been very
in how to take their own life while even in death
waiting their turn like any other poet
that was ever able to over come what was tragic.
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