PRESTON :
I lay softly in my bed.... I pat my own back close my eyes breathe heavily.... I wild thought manage to ooze from my lips.... Huuh life well lived.... It's not normal right.... I thought so too.... I don't have tears in my eyes.... I even think my tag hurt surgeon is useless....
I suspend my hands and legs mid air... Wondering what happens next... Should I write my favorite words or my last words.... Today in the morning I looked in the mirror I didn't realize that I've grown old with wrinkles....My eyes bulgy and a shade of black on it..... I try to escape reality....
Writing doesn't do the trick anymore.... You don't know how many people I've killed in my thoughts...Or how times in different ways I've killed specific people...You don't really know how many times I've committed failed suicide....
But that just part of the history.... I wanted to call you.... Let your number be the last thing I dialed... It's easy and satisfying to link you with my death....I would wish I be present though silent to listen to you lying to the whole world...Just like you did to me....Maybe your father....No your mother would regret her classes....
I want to write on my Facebook.... Gone down to count the dead...But that is too ambiguous... I want to talk to Shakespeare....Or Romeo...Or Valentine....I want to go back in history and erase the phrase " Romeo Romeo where for thou art".....
Also I want to lay down...Let my people vote their president...Watch him being pronounced then cough the last chocking air.... Mid way on my death write or wrong... Write you a message... And on my bedroom wall write in blood....she that I love hurts me....
©Hurt_Surgeon 2017™
No comments:
Post a Comment