There is something extremely ironic in all of this. I wrote a suicide note. It got deleted Erased like it was never there. I felt something Something that moved me Despite my lethargy Into action. Now I find myself second-guessing Every action, thought, memory that falls Into that triangle eye of feeling And questioning reality itself. Questioning every ounce of my self and sanity. Unsure as to my judgment On any aspect of existence. I have put down the blades that cut me With their scalpeled edge and hermetic seal And taken up a weapon that leaves no evidence. One coping mechanism gone The spiral begins Awake, asleep It makes no difference I follow myself everywhere Laying waste to my poisoned psyche. It makes no difference None of it. I will live, I will die It is only a matter of when and where And no one has yet sufficiently explained to me Why one when is preferable to another. This is American Land of the free, home of the brave Breeder of capitalism, and bearer of McDonaldization. Red and yellow efficiency. Quick in, quick out. I’m just being patriotic. I came into the world I saw what it meant to live I rose up and tried to vicci, Really tried my damndest But failed to conquer. It’s a long fall for anyone And only cats always land on their feet. I know it is selfish to want this Or so I have heard over and again But I cannot help but think That it is awfully selfish to keep me here Just so they don’t have to lose me. I am ready for a rest I’ve exceeded my use Broken the proverbial bone If I was a horse They’d have pity and shoot me.