rhetorical answer?

think of me in a dying light
as i am, it will never all be
said and done, though chalked up
official french syntax, tibetan
buddhism, trumpets: think
a word or two of books i've bought
to read out, in a living light,
loud to you, say, a poetic
proverb to save me.

could jesus still wash my feet
from his right hand seat
in the linguists dream of god,
the pedagogue of sight
and wherewithall of slumber
carpted steps in a vault where
i keep a photograph of my back
in a tiny gold box, password:
genuflect

re-peat

there are certain things i don't allow myself in this overfree, unadorned life like
calling you when i've promised myself i won't, or writing on the empty cardboard toilet paper roll in sharpie "you're fucked now" when i've just used up the last of it in a public stall.

these things define this evening, where i break other promises (no smoking!), don't drink on work nights, don't spend all your tip money the day you get it...5 dollar wine. quit wishing for phone calls, know that you are who you want to be.

rambles in anonymous wireless, faltering beta, wanton disregard: exhibitions that come tumbling all ass over end into a new distillation. you pixillate through my head regarded highly as static, as foreground, mortar. serf, surf, surf. work play crash a shoreline distinctly overwhelmed. peat.

this is what i do for a living: create beautiful, temporary art on peoples lattes and other drinks...it's like my own version of the buddhist sand-mandala. humbling.

that we all, one day, will die
doesn't scare me, but that you may
so soon -- why the fuck with all
suicide wants -- in my nascent
upcoming summoned to your
chambre: a language in such
ascent we can't...rise fast enough
to meet our deaths alone.
empty of thought, just like
the day we, vacant, escaped
the vault of womb.

this is about something more serious. not like televisions, because those, like cars, are so fucked up and serious; more about the sweet people who want razorblades and car "accidents" and icy fast moving streams more than they want this simple life.
my brother has been speaking to me about suicide...over a girl, really over SEX! fucking sex, unbelievable...this brilliant girl i was seeing (she's completely batshit wacko, insane) but brilliant, says she just wants this to end...to start over? i told her that we cannot die. maybe she will (has?) how the fuck do you tell people to LOOK AROUND! this perfect earth that we're fucking up is so much more important than you.
sorry folks. i love you, really i do. one day you'll see.