It is too late now.
They are dissolving in my stomach,
Fizzing and contorting.
Thye have lost their identity as pills.
Thye are mush.
Like I am.
I have lost my identity.
I am no longer me.
I am blackness.
With blood
And a heart
That would not stop beating:
Obstinately would not stop,
Even when I thought it might.
Even though I hoped it would always.
I drained my blood through those cuts.
Those long, red, beautiful gashes
In my arm.
I wanted to deprive my heart
Of life giving oxygen.
But still it kept on
Through all my pain
And my pathetic excuse for a life.
Well ha! Now heart
You can't fight these drugs.
You will no longer dance.
You will lie still like me.
You will never move again.
You'll be dead like me.
Finally I'm dead on the outside.
Now I match my feelings.
My body is dead
But my inner-self was a long time ago.
I'm no longer a person.
I'm a statistic.
Not sweet suicide. I was murdered by painful life.
Goodbye life.
I'm never coming back.
(c) 2002
L. Brown