The River

I am a marionette tied to a rope

dragged across the pier, staring down

into the water,

chewing on

-thoughts-.

There's no reflection staring

back, an empty

depth permeates my soul,

black plume surrounding

my heart. I am a beat away from

pushing my heels from the edge,

- bite the bullet, will you? -

and diving down, grasping for mercy

from god knows who.

- Hypoxia doesn't seem too bad now,

does it? -

I persist and with every day I stare,

my eyes glaze over

as though someone

is speaking

all the time

without stopping

about something that

I don't care about.

So alright. I resign.

Wrap a necktie around my mouth,

shove it down my throat,

let your nails slice my voice box -

keep me silent.

Give me a sickness deep

into the lungs

and let my heart drown.

It'll probably be

the most alive

I've ever felt.