Shallow, etcetera

my inside is a drought
a symbol of euthanasia

which means “death
is near a bucket holding music”

those other things
are still other things

and illusion is a little not deep
says an eternity of black holes.

we exist as poison
as gin lurking in multiple rooms of the stomach

I wrote out pains—the ones in my head
It gave me names—starting with you

Euthanasia “death is a nearer music”
for fingers that make rhythm

Eulogy “an excess of unsaid things”
of those and other things remaining

Euphoria “a sentence sweetener”
Eugenics “few, few, shallow you”

death is not deep
death is not steep

Ruddapoet