21.06.2026

Anything that's ever 

Any help at all

Always seems to come 

Too late, if at all. 

If you call the suicide hotline, 

(As I did, today, )

Here, in Israel, it's called "Eran"

(Dial "one-two-oh-one")

You'll hear three rings, 

And then the hold music 

(Ironically, a Shlomoh Artzi 

Song, that's called "Going Home".) 

If you can stand to sit

Through all of that, in your

Moment of distress, 

Finally, a voice answers,

You breathe deep, prepare to speak, 

But then:

"Please leave a message, and we'll call you back 

During our regular hours of operation:

Sunday, through Thursday, 

From 4:00 PM, to 9:00"

And I swear, you won't be 

Able to keep yourself from laughing 

At such absurdity,

And you remind yourself, 

Even if they'd answered, 

What could they possibly do?

I have long maintained 

That "suicide intervention", 

Always seems to focus 

On all the wrong things; 

Stopping someone from dying,

Isn't the same as 

Helping them live.  

Despite what some may say,

Despite that catchy, 

Pop-psych phrase,

Not all problems

Are actually temporary.    

11.06.2026

Surviving, is like an old, 

Second-hand car

A real, gas guzzling piece-of-shit 

That leaks oil and coolant, 

And god knows what else, 

All over the road and your

Fucking driveway. 

It was just gonna be temporary,

That's the promise you made yourself 

When you plunked down the last 

Nine hundred bucks in your account

But it keeps breaking down,

And, now, every single time, 

It eats your whole paycheck, 

Just to keep it on the road.

And, you just keep getting it 

Fixed, bcause you

Can't see clear to

Any other way

Eventhough your insurance rates 

Keep going up

And the AC quit the day that you got it, 

(And so did the windows, and it isn't a fuse) 

And it's almost July 

And it's starting to smell 

Like mildew, and maybe

Like something died 

Inside the dash. 

And you hate every minute, 

But there's nothing you can do,  

Because this is it, now

It is what it is

And just like whatever 

Got struck in your dash

You too, are fucking stuck. 

And this piece-of-shit life.