He killed himself
His breath and his voice rang violence in his head
so he held them both still
until they stopped trying to escape.

He was stuck in thoughts,
which often spiral until they latch like moss on all
the necessary synapses;
And all fungus will continue to grow until scraped off from doubt.

He heard the sound of his hilarity
and loathed it
revered by some
but annoying to others who mattered most
who were standing by when the cameras stopped.

How difficult it is to live feeling laughed at rather than with.

af

(written with pen on paper in memory of…)