*Antwan races down the hallway, papers flurring from the stack -gripped not so tightly in his arms.*
Dear World
Please Kill Me,
Yea, yea. I know I’m late. Blah, blah blah. Fucking long day (or night I should say). You guys have got to forgive my candor. “SLEEPLESSNESS HAS OVERTAKEN ME!” I’m not one to mince words in the face of damning truth, so if I’m being honest, yesterday wore me out to near bitter end. Since (at the moment) I have nothing of value to report here’s On the Fire Suicides of the Buddhists by Charles Bukowski.
‘They only burn themselves to reach Paradise’
– Mne. Nhu
original courage is good,
motivation be damned,
and if you say they are trained
to feel no pain,
are they
guarenteed this?
is it still not possible
to die for somebody else?
you sophisticates
who lay back and
make statements of explanation,
I have seen the red rose burning
and this means more.
Somehow resonant in this exact moment. Later turds,
-Antwan Crump.
Eye of the Writer 