i gave up my last outlet for stress so you wouldn't worry

and now it's ripping my head apart.

the two parts of my mind argue with each other

anxiety says:
worry. and worry. and worry some more.
children having troubles in their lives that i can't fix.
someone decides to sue me.
always fearful that my job will go away.
are my cats sick? are they dying?
will i be alone and loney for the rest of my life?

despair says:
it doesn't matter, none of it.
there's nothing worth staying around for.
i might part the smooth continuance of my skin
with a razor blade,
and let everything that's inside
spill over the wet red mouth it makes,
and then go to sleep.

The universe exists to shit on people like me.

For every tiny good thing that happens in my life, it's "balanced" out by something huge and horrific. The death of a loved one. Loss of a job. Health woes. Abandonment by a lover.

I've been alone for more than three years now. Ill for over twenty years. Living in breaking poverty for almost four years.

Death seems like a much kinder alternative. No joy, sure, but no pain, either. Better by far than this existence.

last word for the night

And it's the big one.

you think they would have caught this years ago

Last Epitaph

Copyright 1982

This is my last epitaph
Gone, a victim of
one menace only.
Taken by a force
I had control of.
To others, a fable,
No power to hurt
Only a word
softly spoken.

Suicide.

poem, untitled

Art on my skin

words sinking in

ink in dark red

wish i was dead

sharp is the blade

scars i have made

pain bleeding through

can't listen to you

i am not here

i have nothing to fear

when will it be done

is it just begun?

please let me go

i dont want to know

just let me be

i need to be free

Maybe I should.

Painfully obvious.

I know.