The suicide alphabet letters break off from the tip of the speech into a maple cry. And the tongue weaves a mess of sounds that are born every time to die. Silence is crossed with talking and the smoked air hurts like meat. Everything around is burning. Everything around goes out. A lethal dose of unspoken words exists only to disappear into the dust of memory. Centuries-old layers of emptiness accumulate and the alcohol gets stronger. Everything has been swallowed and drunk and washed down. Suicide letters. Suicide letters.
Mykyta Ryzhykh, an author from Ukraine, now lives in Tromsø, Norway. He was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2023 and 2024. He’s published in many literary magazines іn Ukrainian and English: Tipton Poetry Journal, Stone Poetry Journal, Neologism Poetry Journal, Shot Glass Journal, QLRS, The Crank, Chronogram, The Antonym, Monterey Poetry Review, Five Fleas Itchy Poetry and many others.