The Demise of An Aspiring Poet

feverishly
feeding off cod
discursively meandering
the letting of blood

the culmination of my own
psychosis coagulated thought-
strangulated nonsense

drools
into a pool of spue

desecrated
with frivolous ideas
emanating
a stench beyond reason

that only I
find scintillating

sort of like
maggots
ensconced
in putrid libation

I drown
in spasmodic
maundering
fumbling about
in lunacy
hungering obscurity

self-debasement
defile me
my every gratitude

the rope is only the tool

slithering
in filth
of my own demise
bathing in its
deprivation

thoughts of the rope
seduce sirens
what chance have I
to deny my fate

the rope is only the tool
reverberates soundly

surrounding me of my failures
swept up in a deluge of self-hatred

the rope is only the tool

Yes!!! Damn You!!!

but I

prefer the slow deprecation
of the blade