Sincerely, (or, How to kill a poet.)

first you

sit in the dark corner of a dark room

peel off your skin

one word at a time

and give the shock permission to make you feel useless

and cold

and afraid

and then you

take a pen, shove it into your head

and smear the dead gray matter all over whatever piece of paper you can find

whether the page from a notebook you haven’t seen since high school

or the receipt for the pack of cigarettes that overdrew your bank account

and you scrawl whatever empty imagery you can make into a solid geometric shape

as fast as you can

before you lose your breath and have to start over again

and then you call this poison art

and wish that you weren’t such a figment of your own imagination

a dream afraid to wake itself up

try to pretend you are a productive member of society

able to be what you should according to the 6 o’clock news

and then, high on the agony of your lack of self respect

you tie a nice little ribbon around the throbbing maggot that’s burrowed its way into your id

send it off to a man in an office who has never known what its like to spend the night afraid that you’ll implode if you open your eyes

cross your fingers

and pretend that you don’t care

sit in a dark corner of a dark room

and wait…

wait…

wait…

“Dear Writer,

Thank you for your submission. Unfortunately, we must pass at this time. Best of luck placing your work elsewhere.

Sincerely,”