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Blackness. 6/22/04
The heart.
So close to the surface.
Beating softly beneath my chest.
It would be so simple
to just break through my skin
through the plural cavity
a silver reckoning steadily inside of me
a choke
a dribble of blood flows out of the inside of my mouth in an unnatural way.
As if any way would be natural.
In a few moments I will be dead.
Like every time in a lovers bed.
I am unforgivably, unnaturally, alone.
It just has to be...
this way.
Blackness.
Brown eyes wide open that see nothing.
They never have seen the truth
except when they saw no one
and they never will see truth again.
Ear drums that still capable of hearing
a whimper at my side
but no nerves nor senses left to complete the act.
I can’t hear them ask me why
I couldn’t revel in this irony
that would please me the most.
Nor could I linger in the feeling of
accomplishment that I would derive from
their pain.
I am not able to even try.
Blackness.
A wise man would tell them not to mourn.
That I was born to die alone
tears in the beginning
tears in the end.
