(untitled) -- a collection of experimental poetry [COMPLETE]

our innermost journey

first we
found the picture
of the measuring weights
where your pain
outweighs your
coping resources

then we found the site
with the picture of
spilt wine and pills

we read the letter from the guy
that made the website
and as hard as we tried
we couldn't buy his assurances
of 'everything will be okay'

we found the tables with
success rates, time and
relative agony
and we realised Kurt Cobain
had it all figured out

we read the separate tabs
for every method,
convinced that pills and
razors in bathtubs
were a pretty shitty
way to go

exits bags seemed alright.
painless and foolproof,
and we scanned all the
websites with smiling
elderly people and
tried to get our hands
of helium.

we tried to read the densest
translation of Camus
we had every found.
and although we
ended up reading
'The Stranger' instead
the gist of 'The Myth of Sisyphus'
appealed - everything was
pointless,
and we just couldn't
enjoy the absurd

and we questioned
and questioned it all,
wondering how
everyone else
just lives with this
knowledge:
that everything is
meaningless

wondering how
all the bowling pins
in jackets
elbowing their way
through a sidewalk
in New York
can find a reason
to get up
in the morning
instead of
shooting
themselves
in the head...

we might've discovered Alan Watts
and Zen Buddhism through a sci-fi
novel

some of us might've taken pills or talked to therapists

there are those that accepted the fapstronaut challenged or reconnected with friends

and others might've simply recaptured the queer spark that keeps us living.

in any case,
know you're not alone