I will abide my age
the impending disaster
of the mindless mass
having outgrown its
own hands and feet
-- another, a friend
hanged himself
from the ceiling beam
last Halloween
I plan nothing more
than to bury myself
alive -- in poems
full of the imminent
disease, the other,
and the desperate
who have forgotten
how to strike first,
before the next meal.
Add your own Sullivan story or poem by clicking HERE!