[Jan Iwaszkiewicz]

Hammer me a blade from starlight
that cuts like a word or a look
and tell me a story of heaven
that can’t be found in a book.

I’m lost in my living
and hope you’re forgiving.
Life’s too much for me.

I’m holding the knife that you made me.
My bath is cooling down quick.
I’ve written goodbye on the mirror.
so everyone knows that I’m sick.

I’m lost in my living
and hope you’re forgiving.
It’s too much for me.

The picture of Marat in my bedroom,
the poems of Plath on the floor.
This life’s not worth a cracker
and nothing is worth much more.

I’m lost in my living
and hope you’re forgiving.
It felt too much for me.

I reach for my life and a towel.
I’ll try to go with the grain.
I know the worst is knowing
this weakness in my brain.

I’m lost in my living
and hope you’re forgiving.
I’m looking to find who’s me