Death wish in a lame fucking coffee house where everybody is a cunt

Let the cancers come,
the gallbladders fail,
the lungs collapse...

Let the coffin lid hinges squeal
upon closing.

Halt the murmurings of
the half ass in-completes
that waltz through this ballroom world
in velvet pageantry.

Alas, the registers will still ring
filling themselves up with
the currency of the dead.

Crowds will still gather to
share their filth, to touch each others genitals
and the words, "what does that mean?"
will float away on the wings of
their rotted breath.


Ray M. Strickland

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