To Anti-Natalists, Sincerely

There is always bleeding in this world,
but that doesn’t mean you should
twist the tourniquet so tight
that you kill the limb—
better would it be
that you twisted the
noose
and stepped off the edge
choking off your own hypocrisy
midsentence.
While I have no children
and dislike suffering
and am sympathetic toward Buddhist notions of
nonbeing,
I never thought Sisyphus should just
quit the hill;
it has some lovely
views
along the way
if you know where to look
amidst the day-to-day drudgery.
Ingrate, why don’t you
trade places with any among the
innumerable dead?
If they could speak on their own behalf
they would likely exchange with you
readily enough,
trading swarming maggots
for airy breath.
You’re upset because you were
dragged into this world by your
umbilical cord, kicking and screaming
while covered in filth.
So were we all,
and while we may complain, we also
get over it.
Existential consent matters most to you,
you say,
so consent to suture the bloodflow
to your head
so these anti-existential thoughts can be
reconciled summarily
with nonexistence.
If euthanasia is such a mercy
then go pay a visit to
Dr. Kevorkian
and take a ride on his famous
Thanatron
straight out of Somewhere.
Funny, you wouldn’t be able to endorse
Death
if you weren’t such a failure
in following your own gospel.
But if you weren’t such a coward
you would simply not be at all—
silence the sound and the fury
if it signifies nothing,
needlessly,
but stop grumbling beneath the yoke of
Life
like a slave beneath the whip of his
master
and unchain yourself.
Throw yourself upon your
double-edged sword of
Reason
or else be quiet.
Petulant children decry the strict
governess, too,
but never choose to flee to the wilderness
for long.
Instead, they grow the fuck up.
Life is a bitch, as they often say,
so take your mouth off the teat
if you don’t like the sour milk.
Make room for those
more grateful for the taste.