Volume 30, Number 2

Silence Is the Necrosis of Your Future

Suicide is a word I hold close by
listening to it for its intent,
making sure its shadow
is nowhere near my heart

I’ve attempted twice,
so I know how swiftly,
how insidiously suicide
can creep its claw-toed
poison into my veins
leading to my brain

Stray thoughts, passive thoughts
and then full on ideation

The warning signs tell half
the battle, but when air becomes
a half thought, and not a necessity

When the cars speeding by outside
seem desirable to run into

When the bridge looks like
a savior

You know it’s time to reach out
You know it’s time to get help
You know it’s time to grab on

You know it’s time
Not your time to go
Not your time to leave
Not your time to give in
Not your time to give up
When even the Sun screams at you
for something you did ten years ago

When even the rivers seem to be calling
your name

When light becomes darkness,
and darkness becomes scorn
and scorn becomes resentment
and resentment becomes torment
and torment becomes depression
and depression becomes you

          You must take a step back

          You must breathe

          You must breathe

          You must remember

You must remember your name
You must remember your purpose
You must remember the love

The love, the love, the love

You must douse yourself in love

You must grab your close ones
while they reek of love

You must make the resentment
into something tangible and beautiful

You must love

—Adam Levon Brown