My obituary was written in red ink.

In this repetitive nightmare,

I’m always swallowing what I really want to say

And I become almost insignificant in the shadow of man.

Being unheard is the worst heartbreak.

I begged for the Guillotine to whisk away with my head.

I got on my knees for the Lord to smite me.

I laid on a roulette wheel,

Hoping for lightning to strike me dead.

I tried on my mother’s veil

And made it a noose.

But I just hung there in the tree

Like a pinyata waiting for a bat to open me up,

Candy guts spilled over in the grass.

I weighed the emptiness in milligrams

But purged the feelings of inadequacy

And flushed them down the toilet.

The only way to silence the screaming in my head

Is to kiss the receiving end of my father’s shotgun

And blow my own mind.