Practicing Roses Pt. One

There is a brand new typewriter
on my kitchen table
My heart has been filled with
suicide letters
since I picked it up last week
Thank you for giving it to me
for free
I sure am lucky
no one paid the asking price
for this old dusty thing
that is new to me

I shouldn’t throw that word around
as if suicide is something
you can mention casually
But everything I want to write
is about how I kill myself every year
and then just wipe the slate clean
like a pecked-at piece of paper
pulled swiftly from a pecking machine
Replaced, stark and clean
with a blank page
Cliche wrapped up in antiquity