Animal Suicide

precocious Snow

harbinger of temperance

Young snow glowyourself off

a ripcord of scream tears across the night

bledpetals perform your illusivereddining

darkenbenew Transform my lovely be the trail the drip still lacquered with warmishpulse

Be the Bloodcell caught unawares by the sudden thump bravely probing the coldest

snow ignorant of her lack of reinforcements, small dying frontline, the déjà vu avant-garde of death

She must’ve felt the calm before the

As a person falls to be hung there is a translucent moment of levity As

the ax drops there is a murderous rage to the drop As

an elephant in Tangiers stops to let the wind hit his face before going the way of the Jellyfish

before swimming out some thirty meters and sucking in elephant gulp upon gulp

precluding to tip like a Titanic, sinking just as the waters get dark some thirty meters down he

sure the night was cold, sure is cold out they said as she entered stage up

sure the wind might have rustled her ankles, primed her Novacainenerves

brought blue berries on her cheeks, made her Hooker makeup seem

Sure, the bastion band had many gold trumpeters but he, I mean before he took his own life

He could play the Trumpet man he could squeal Women nude he could

sure before he took one too many Vicatin he could blast the women’s clothes right off their Bones

him, yeah the guy in the back, sure her the one who dropped Thirty meters Seven stories

The Bamboo who led his dozen-member tribe into the sea, torch lofted above them the night sea

welcoming in warm-watered embrace a tragic soul into the paradigms of Suicide, you’d

never have thought it’d be her, Sure she hit the pavement I guess but I mean-a-hell-of-a-peaceful

way to go anyway

as I was saying all them Hyena’s ate that Gazelle, the one who ran off the cliff full kilter

just as if someone from behind him was chasing him,

Sure, she messed up her hair, but before long before it was pinned tighter than a steel drum

and Sure, they feasted

who wouldn’t of you tell me whouwouldn’ta shot himself with a Wife like that, what Kind a Jack

O’Lantern coulda lived with that caw caw caw and sure, he shot himself out there in front of them all

but c’mon, who can blame a vulture for letting go each tense pull turn swoop of the wing

who woulda blamed a soul for that, seriously if she wasn’t smiling the papers would be different

but all in all/overall/overall herself same person is laced in that snow and I got the feeling,

a chill in my spine if you want that

that last cigarette tasted like Gold flake that that last breath was no scream and I’d pay you Real

American dollars to shout me from the rooftops if it weren’t that she was smiling all the way down.