I think about
If i had killed myself
When you told me to
Would it have bothered you
Or did it hurt you that i didnt
Didnt love you enough to listen
Or that i loved you too much
To burden you with
The bullet that struck my brain
Did you know i tried and failed
That the knife couldn't find my veins
And that i walked past our place
In the rain
On the way home and you were
outside on the porch smoking cigarettes
Cold and carefree
In a cold and calmed
and callous and calculated way

Or maybe just carelessly

JP Nausea

I cannot stop thinking,
This thinking is
My existence.
I am because i
Am horrified by
My existence.
Were i to stop
This constant consistancy
Would i cease to be,
As a crashing computer
Loses its memory?
Lost, i am, for i think
Of death--and you.
Of suicide, a means to hide
From my guilt and responsibility.
I think of not feeling
The absence of comfort--
The torturous
The misery and agony
Of living without
You.
And dils.
Dils.
And you.
I think
Of my existance,
Of what i think,
As who--what i am.
Is this identity--
And others (people and pets)--
How they think of me--
Can i ever be free
To be or not to be?

I still dream of you every night
I wake,
Frozen in fright.
Of what-
I do not know
But, the answer for now
And always forever is no.

I think about
If i had killed myself
When you told me to
Would it have bothered you
Or did it hurt you that i didnt
Didnt love you enough to listen
Or that i loved you too much
To burden you with
The bullet that struck my brain
Did you know i tried and failed
That the knife couldn't find my veins
And that i walked past our place
In the rain
On the way home and you were
outside on the porch smoking cigarettes
Cold and carefree
In a cold and calmed
and callous and calculated way

Or maybe just carelessly

Brandon Gorrell

Yesterday I was nervous.

I was supposed to go to a show with you.

I was really glad we were friends and you were smart and you challenged me to think.

I sat in front of a computer before I was supposed to go to your house and I felt anxious.

I drank two beers and smoked some cigarettes and I felt a little less anxious.

I went to your house and you gave me a Xanax and we drank alcohol and we had an interesting conversation.

A children’s movie was on your television screen and I played with your cats.

I ate the Xanax you gave me.

You had a happy and depressed facial expression and I looked at you.

We walked your dog before we went to the show.

The show was filled with five hundred drunken frat boys on cocaine.

I looked at you and I felt disappointed and I said that I thought everyone was on cocaine.

You gave me another Xanax.

I hated the frat boys and I ate the Xanax.

You looked at the crowd and you said, Yeah, fuck them.

I laughed and I felt happy.

We watched the show.

I felt happy and amused.

You looked sad and depressed and happy and you ate two morphine pills.

You asked me if I felt anything from the Xanax and I said that I wasn’t sure.

Then the show was over.

We were bored and didn’t know what to do and we went to your house.

You gave me two morphine pills and I ate them and I played with your cats.

We went to a bar with no cover charge and we drank alcohol.

You looked depressed and tired and I felt a little depressed and tired.

I watched the DJ for awhile and I moved around a little bit and you stood behind me with a neutral facial expression.

I looked back at you sometimes and you were staring at me.

Sometimes you were looking at the ceiling.

We went to a booth and had small, two sentence conversations.

The bartender told everyone to leave.

We went outside and we were bored.

You asked if I was feeling the Xanax and the morphine and I said that I didn’t know.

I felt tired and I said that maybe I was feeling the Xanax and the morphine.

We decided to go to the gas station to get alcohol.

There were a lot of people at the gas station and I felt a little drunk.

You looked happy.

The clerk at the gas station told us it was too late to buy alcohol and I tried to bribe him with a five dollar bill and you laughed.

We were bored again and decided to go back to your apartment because you had alcohol.

When we got there we drank alcohol that tasted like cinnamon.

We talked about something and I felt interested and you had an anxious facial expression.

You called me a sexist and I felt bad.

I said that sometimes you made me feel like you didn’t like me and you got up and went to the bathroom.

I waited for you for ten minutes and you didn’t come out of the bathroom.

I played with your cats and your cats liked me.

I moved close to the bathroom and the door was open.

I asked if you were okay.

You said that you didn’t feel very good.

I asked if I should leave.

You said yes.

I looked into the bathroom and you were looking at yourself in the mirror with your hands holding the sink.

I walked past the bathroom.

I said that I hoped everything was okay and you didn’t understand me and I said that I hoped everything was okay and you didn’t say anything.

I left your apartment and I felt confused.

On the way home I felt really high on Xanax and morphine and I listened to my iPod at a low volume.

I reached out to you
You never replied
I could never reach you
Though i tried
To save this as a memory
In the category of good
Could this be an allegory
Of what should happen would?
I lied to my family and friends
And said you contacted me
I didnt want their pity
I just don't want that to be our end

"there are worse things than
being alone
but it often takes decades
to realize this
and most often
when you do
it’s too late
and there’s nothing worse
than
too late."