Tonight I'm posed and popping like a peacock. I'm pressing flesh. I'm smiling big. My spinning head sings "stop, just stop." 'cause what used to calm me down just rips my life to ribbons now. So I keep smiling. I find my window and quick cut out. These days my hangman's hunger makes my gut kick. My sleeping mind could map it blind: a flask, a key, a bag, a fifth. I try to will myself away while shouting habits plead their case. So when the sun seers through my eyes, a beggar's brain can't compromise. I splash cold water. I draw the curtains. I stay inside. And I can't say that it's a sickness, more like a stranger I ask in and later realize was a strangler slipping nooses in my den. But I was lonely, so I asked him, "could you tie that one on me?" It wasn't his fault. I was eager and I was weak. So as I inched towards resolution, yeah, I'm not sure which life feels right. The narrow noose or the wading water the hanging head, sore open eyes. I know my brother, he went one way and at the fork I heard him say, "Don't you follow. don't go making my mistakes." And I realized what he meant: don't kill yourself to raise the dead. It never works. You'll only end up joining them. It never works. You'll only end up joining them.