In this poem,
I will take my life.

It’s okay.
You can have it.

Let these words
percolate.

Winner, faggot,
cocksucker, bitch.

Your mother
is a whore.

You will never
do anything more.

She’ll always be fat.
Did you hear he’s gay?

Yeah,
I heard it.

He did what?
Yeah, he did that.

Why’d he leave
so suddenly?

Trust me,
don’t trust him.

He is so ugly,
I’d never fuck him.

Winna, Winna, Winna,
wake up.

I should have
died drunk

in a car wreck
in 2003.

I should have
ODed.

Like many friends
who lived coked up,

stoned, blown up
and blown.

Wu-Tang
forever, yeah.

Let the stoned
stay forever stoned.

To live this long,
with the memories

of what they
did to me,

said to me,
thought of me,

made me feel,
how cruel.

But you are dead,
and I am not.

So I guess
I’ll keep going,

breathe into
the ocean,

see the tide
for what it is.

Living,
breathing mutant.

Last in the
school of fish.

 

Jason Wright is the editor and founder of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly. His third book, Train of Thought 2: Almost Home is available now at the Oddball Book Store.