I wish I were dead.
I wish I had a gun,
so I can put it
to
my head.
And move my finger.
And pull
the trigger.
And
die lying
in my bed.
Oh, how I wish I were dead.
How I wish I
were dead.
I wish I could eat crud.
And
wallow alone in the mud.
Washing up in the blackened suds of earth,
in the aftermath of a sudden flood.