There is no story behind
this broken arm
Nothing explains it

If I name one more damage
with no story to explain it
you will begin one

so instead I say
rise, finality, next,
no connections

loser wagon 
condensation
anxiety chalkboard

If I offer one more non sequitur
you will make a story of them
thus destroying them

so instead I say
Ha Ha Ha
instead I say Eh

we try to make a world from
separate things
though the world is already one thing

if I laugh again
you will make a routine of this
and then a theory for it

though no understanding’s
needed for what is
randomly being here

enough, ha ha ha
to know we don’t know
or should be so

they see you ready to end it all, hopeless, etc.
so your friends start to speak in cliches.
they tell you how dark the night,
how cold the ground.  tie a knot, hang on, etc. 

understand that this is the lingua franca
of those encountering despair.
it’s the only language they have in common
with each other when faced with you.

they will comfort each other
in this same language, reciting to each other
what they said to you, once you are gone,
once they feel satisfied you can no longer hear.

don’t respond as you’d wish.  don’t let them know
they aren’t really your friends now.
they need you to make themselves
feel better. you are of value.  take comfort in that.

instead, ask them: ok, how am I supposed
to tie the savior knot when I will have to let go
of the rope to do it? and, what if dawn
brings me before a firing squad? 

watch them wiggle, hear them squeal.  it won’t be fun to see
but how else will they learn that
their silent presence cools fire,
and stop trying so hard to talk you out of the frying pan?