the legend of mary jo

that i have not
punched anyone in the face
should prove what a hero
i am
that i haven’t
torn the throat of the world
out
with my teeth
should show
what a humanitarian i am.

i was playing off of the legend of billy jack…but seeing as my given name is actually mary jo….

this is the other end of the suicide scope it seems. homicide. for everyone giving me unsolicited advice as i try to find my way through…i have not brought injury on to any of them.
so throw me a fucking parade.

not so much

most days
these days
i want to kill myself
except
i don’t want to die
so i guess
there’s that.

more of that clawing my way out of my own life feeling. i am overwhelmed & frustrated & wanting to feel better but every time i see a glimpse of light, it gets stomped the fuck out. so then i just start fantasizing about horrible things to do to myself…but i don’t really want to do them…so why does the fantasy help me feel better?

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