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Anti-Hero

begging for death bouquets
of intestinal splattered orchids
babies breath lacing electric tulips
without ripping tear ducts anymore.

C'mon! Kill me, I cry.
You took my sister, not me
while I live repugnant sin
before my mother,
lethargic from anti depressant narcotics
living the daily possibility of my death
and the world to go on
saying Nothing)))))) )  )))   ))
she will ever hear

I want to live to honor memory
but bleed life instead.
To everybody,
I am just Smiarowski drinking again
twisting further
my rag
heart existence
into empty bucket pages
swabbing the deck
of a sinking boat.

But don't think for a minute that I don't fucking care.

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