no shallow end,
no lifeline
this is not an explanation,
you see,this is my grandfather’s suicide
this is a letter to the fucker who
tried to get me fired twentyyears ago because i was sleeping
with his girlfriend
we grow up
and then we grow old
the wars don’t matter as long as
we can still afford to get drunk
this is a truth i
never see printed in the papers
this is blood in the
bathroom sink at
i think about who i might
call, then end up justgoing back to bed
in the morning,
the basement has flooded
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