Poem: Birthday

I wish suicide was rare, because then

I could do it and still be different, instead of a hack

filling footsteps of those who aren’t

even my godheads, Plath and Kobain

are hero’s sure, but so are Brooks and Byrne

living in peaceful production, Spinoza was a prick

who couldn’t even get it right, so Camus and Hartman

had the best path, but I can only hope

that the accident finishes me

this time, and I’ll leave sadness

in my wake, just like everyone

else, oh shit there’s just no winning.

Poem: Birthday