hastur

The poet is a good friend of mine.

This poem speaks of the death of two good friends of mine. The first by suicide. The second by autoerotic asphyxiation. Yeh, he killed himself masturbating. This friend was my best friend. Today marks the fourth anniversary of his death.

I understand how you feel, I'm comming up on a two year aniversery of the death of a girl who had planned to come live with me, the night she called me to tell me she was going to get on a plane the next day, we talked until 5:00am....

Then the next day...

I've written more than my share of verse about her, it only helps so much.

namaste.