when i am really
really struggling
i try to paint
the pain in pretty
smears of repulsive

coat the suicidal
ideations in metaphor
place the mask
directly into the æther
so no one sees me

no one wants to see
hell in person
brimstone sermons
satiate the curious to
leave well enough alone

my head and my heart
hurt today and i don’t
feel much like painting
although i fantasize
of arterial sprays

i notice i drive
with my hand awfully
loose on the wheel
for someone speeding
as if the devil’s on his tail