Thoughts On A Suicide

Knife hunting.
Small, not sharp enough.
Doesn't even hurt. Too numb.
Stuck it to my wrist, pressed hard. . .
Nothing! A tiny scrape.
Noone will notice.
They won't even see, just like they don't see me.
Not even a taste of blood.
Thought about just biting, went scarf hunting.
Am I really that stupid?
Scarf is gone, can't remember where.
Must have packed it, don't remember when.
If it was day time and they were gone,
I'd just slam my head against something.
It's night time though and their all here.
So beautiful, so perfect. . .
Not me, nothing like me.
Why is it when I slide,
I slide so far and so deep?
Always deep.
It's never a tiny climb back from the abyss.
It's always work.
Knife is small and worthless,
But I consider trying again.
Feel like crying but can't.
Feel like running!
Feel like screaming!
This must be darkness.
Been here before,
to many times.
How many more?
Today will come to pass,
But one day won't.
With any luck,
One day soon.
Very soon.
Wish I didn't have tolerance built up.
Such a tolerance for everything. . .
drugs, alcohol, living.
To tolerant, too much.
Too empty.
Too lonely, too much pain.
Can't stop thinking about it,
Cutting my throat,
Slicing open my stomach and trailing intestines.
To dirty just like me.
To nasty, to sticky, to messy.
Just like me.
Too sick, too sad, too dull, too much feeling.
Too hopeless, too unhappy.
Too brokenhearted, too miserable.
Too crushed, too broken.
Too much love, too much hate.
Too much guilt, too much disease.
Too full of medications from the past, too many surgeries.
Too much, just too much.
Always talk about her being crazy. . .
I come from her and I'm crazy. . .
It's all a joke though, one big joke.
Why is her disease real and mine not?
Anything I have is fake,
Unless you can see it on me, in me.
They don't. I think they refuse.
This too will be chalked up to another goofy plea for help.
"You're leaving in a couple months! It's ok! You'll be okay until
then! Trust us!"
I don't. I don't trust you.
I don't trust me!!!
I'm not okay.
I wasn't okay before, I won't be now.
I never have been. I was never okay.
Don't even know where to go from here.
Leaving her will kill me, but staying will kill me.
10 fingers and 10 toes, cooing and content. . .
How can I leave that?
How can I stay?
I said it before,
She was the one thing that could hold me here.
I don't know what would hurt worse,
having a relationship with her by staying. . .
or not staying and then coming back here to discover she doesn't remember me.
Actually I do. . .
Her not remembering would be worse. . . much worse.
Classes are planned out, schedule is done.
It's experiential you know. . .
More experience, less academic rigor.
Still knife hunting, even if only in my head.
Rather be a nothing than a painful memory.
Keep seeing death. . .
Closed caskets and frozen bodies.
Made up faces and cold lifeless fingers.
Funereal dresses and vaults deep in the earth.
I seek peace where there is none.
Keep seeking solace where there's none to be found.
Keep seeking truth where only lies exist.
Keep seeking my place where there's no place to be had.
Keep seeking and searching and wandering where there's nothing to be
sought out and no rest to be had.
Even a 4.0 GPA is meaningless in this place.
All the men I've loved are meaningless here,
all married or unavailable. . .
Women to busy for me.
Money to elusive.
I only need enough for a Baby!!
Just enough for a Baby!!
Stomach burns with failure.
Wish I could vomit myself to death. . .
I've found modest amounts of comfort in her,
but how can I take from one so tiny?
So beautifully formed and adorable?
She's not mine, she's not mine. . .
Can bearly type that.
Feels like the words alone will be the death of me.
To bad that's just a feeling.
Need a knife. . .
Maybe I'll use that one if I get desperate enough.
Thought I was desperate enough, guess not.
Still feel the burning and the breaking.
Feels like fire, it is fire.
I said earth was hell, knew I was right.
There is no devil,
just me, my own worst enemy.
Maybe I'll run instead.
Go for a walk, run in front of a car.
Not the ideal way to go, but when there's nothing left. . .
Can't be helped.
Nothing else to do.