Trigger warning: topic of suicide
(a poem for our friends who dream of a better world)
Eleven ways to kill myself,
in my little room;
eleven ways to hasten,
arrival at the tomb,
eleven ways to terminate,
without using a knife,
eleven ways to end,
this thing they call my life.
Cut a large circle through the ceiling and floor above me.
Pray I'm crushed totally when it comes down.
Hundreds of them.
Use them to play a lethal game of Chubby Bunny.
Jump out window headfirst.
Jugular slit wide open by breaking glass.
Strip wires from one end of cord and attach to nipple rings.
Plug into wall.
Hope my heart is located in the right place so the current zaps it thoroughly.
Lay my head down to sleep.
Suffocate when it snaps itself around me.
Drill small hole in pipe that runs across ceiling.
Move bed under pipe.
Lie down and put cloth over face.
Buy a large stake and a mallet.
Practice on my chest.
Read up on King Midas.
Spray gold paint over my entire body.
Pose dramatically and wait for death to strike.
Hide it under carpet.
Go out for farewell dinner.
Come back to my room.
Eat the mouse.
Yes, the one that's been dead in the trap for the past week.
Experience bubonic plague first hand.
Look for someone who loves and accepts me,
all of me,
just as I am.
A family that's embracing,
a community that welcomes,
a world of celebration,
a god with arms wide open.
Keep looking 'til I find.
Drown myself in love
and begin to breathe again.
An original poem by rob g.