Hung Out/In The Hands Of God Poem by Christopher's Dead

Committing suicide is easier than a bloody f**k,
Because when do you have to deal with the consequences
Of Death?
Let's go out for the daily purge
Because I know I'll just cry
If I can't get some tonight.
Harpoon the bed frame,
Drink in sex until we puke,
Freedom called 9-1-1 late last night
And said that somebody chased too many pills.
Believe what you hear from a tight velour sweater
Even God can't see how deep your hands are
In Death.