i come from a
long line of
stubborn suicidals
miserable bastards
that drown
their depressions
in drugs
or booze
a long line of
broad shouldered
silent sufferers
that would rather
choke on the words
than ask
anyone ever
for help
their brilliance
squandered by
a sea of
intoxicants
lost in a haze
of blue smoke
one foot
tiredly placed
in front of
the other
while softly
lamenting
a life of lies

i come from
a long line of
stubborn suicidals
broad shouldered
brilliant disasters
that never quite
lived up to
their full
potentials
squandered it all
on chasing
the next fix
and i wonder
in the silence
snaked around
my serpentine heart
if i am
really any better
spitting
into the wind
then writing
about drowning
in the rain
another one of the
stubborn suicidals
with pollen
from wildflowers
coating my
idiotic grin