you know how many times i tell you
i want to kill myself
then imagine how many times i don't.
imagine how those many times gather
in a sky of knives, in a house of knives
where windchimes sprinkle screams
all over the goodmorning, a box of knives
where they all whetsharpen and grindshine
each other, a knife of knives, and my father
taught this stabwound to tie its laces and walk
and my mother cupped this stabwound's cheeks
and combed all its hair to one side like a goodboy
and but when the world is squeezed into my eyes
i see how small my pain is in the face of its history
and even though i know this is exactly the reason
why suffering stays, cycles, participates, i continue
staying, cycling, participating in the system's fever dream,
as i get so big, so capitalism, so military-industrial complex,
so strategic starvation of current-innocence-but-potential-terror children,
so laser-guided-missile and so antimissile-superdome,
so war, so tyranny of evil, so call-it-by-its-name genocide.
hey me, listen to my mwahaha.
look at how big i get to show how small i am,
and so my suffering continues,
and so suffering continues through me.
~ ajay
12/5/2024
