a poem: a man dies

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👇🏿 ain’t got no time for that? press play for the radical radio recording ✨

a man dies
of suicide
i find him

in a chair
with no hair
he shaves it.

in the nook
of his arm
a gun, that crook

for blood spackle
a tarp put down

clean and neat
in winter heat
his body

smokes, drugs, booze
takes a great snooze
bang! on life.

his wife cries
screams her eyes

screams and screams
cries and cries
he’s dead – he’s died

doubles down-over
lays to cover
him again

it didn’t work
it didn’t work

no sirens
more crying
no bright lights

he is here
we are here
please help us

my dad dies
it is suicide
i find him.

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