I suppose if eating my words were as easy
as placing the order
for the cliche shit sandwich

I'd have bit right into it
the moment the phone rang and your words
sang pity me not

"see I'm over this bullshit
and I haven't got another working cell in my body
that can tolerate the madness...

perhaps I'm just tired of trying to make any sense of it"


but how could I digest your words

sounding so ridiculous and self serving

begging pity me-
for I'm not deserving of this life

imagine the anger that rose from my soul
knowing there was nothing I could say
that would make light
or offer enough meaning to keep you holding on

when I myself

the hypocrite

had spent many a thought
and more than a few moments
ready
to give up
and end all of it