To All Suicides of The World, poetry by Ivan Pozzoni at Spillwords.com

To All Suicides of The World

To All Suicides of The World

written by: Ivan Pozzoni

 

Fighting in the morning in the meanders of a life in the balance,
writing My Synaptic Prisons like Silvio Pellico,
I managed to make depression my companion
like a condemned man before his platoon.

I had a star clutched in a fistful of oats,
convinced I always had it, held on the chain,
it was morning, we were crying, there was a trolley,
there I slammed my face like against a jersey wall,
the star escaped, like an atomic bomb,
pouring me poison and tonic water.

Style never arrives without a vodka
and fuck the anti-depressants,
there was a girl who inspired my mouth
to sing in subversive verse,
now she’s there, on the star, proclaiming to be alive
and I’m headed for that hell that suicides get.

I hope that on the bridge that crosses the Acheron
a tear will flow for those who died by suicide
Atlas will turn the world upside down like a theatrical performer
enough to initiate the challenge
in the Plaza de toros, in the form of a bullfight,
between a bull with a sword and a dowser.

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