See, e’en George Washington says I should kill myself.

Aún temo permitirlos saber a otros que uso una lápiz de PaperMate^®.

I’m e’en ‘fraid to let people know I use a PaperMate^® pencil.

Accompanying music.

Bloody eye o’ Zero, were

I as steadfast as thou aren’t

in your purple milky blur,

my unbeatable broken heart,

sickle cutting through the leaves,

cut through by our shadows, yet

that don’t mold your curdled cheese—

not a clot: your veins stay fed.

I arrived each hour last night

—or this morn—so that I might

see you flush, but you were pale white.

That’s why I shattered every mirror.

Spaghetti falls—
Splut.
No arm tears now—
solo me río.

Accompanying music.

Some will say you hide the sun;

I say that the sun hides you.

Clean as cream or stained with mud,

mixed with every hue o’ blue,

you find comfy every season,

mixing with both sun & rain;

bubble me from earthly treason:

pillow me in dreams away.

Then the billows all turn gray,

lullabies turn into shakes—

1 last thunder ‘fore my wake.

I truly hope

you’ll give my scraps o’ trash a warm home.

When I went to refill the bird feed, I laughed—

I always look both ways before crossing the grass.

I hope I don’t get new poop on my new shoes.

No puedes robar mí depresión;

la tristeza es el sólo calor en este vacío frío.

¿No sabes cuantos los cuestra leña?

Cuando piensa de los ahorros sobre los años…

Eso mero depresión vale miles de semillas de girasol;

eso es suficiente para hace gordo algún hámster.

No puede poner esa pastelería en el paquete y pudrirla.

You can’t take my depression;

sadness is the only warmth in this cold emptiness.

You know how much firewood costs?

When I think o’ the savings o’er the years…

That mere depression’s worth thousands o’ sunflower seeds;

that’s ‘nough to make any hamster fat.

You can’t put that cake factory in your packet & putrefy it.

Baby-doll, nothing makes me swoon-a

like a cat that smells like tuna.

Ugh.

But not so much that red vein in your eye.

Please ne’er show me that ‘gain, kitty.