My suicide
Will be a razor
Will be a gas
Will be noose-tight
Will be a whole bottle of pills
Will reek of bitter almonds
Will slice through arteries
Will bleed on the carpet
And leave dark smears in the bath.
My suicide
Will be a mess
Will burn like a monk
Will swell with lake-water
Will smoke in the garage
Will be a shot to the skull
Will declare me void and null.
My suicide
Will burn like acid
Will freeze me in ice
Leave nothing except
My dead eyes at night.
I’ll leave you all
A simple note
That will bite the heart
That bred it right
Words will be my symphony
All that’s left
Of absurd me.
My suicide will be talked about
My suicide will be
The one great act
That defines me.
My suicide, on the evening news
Will be the story
That fits the bill.
I’ll be world famous
I know I will.
Ok, David... your customary blend of great imagery and perfect rhythms... just so long as this is rhetorical.
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