Naive Tendencies


Screw them all, Romeos and Heroes.


Sunday is gloomy, my hours are slumberless.
Dearest the shadows I live with are numberless.
Little white flowers will never awaken you;
Not where the black coach of sorrow has taken you.
Angels have no thought of ever returning you;
Would they be angry if I thought of joining you?

Gloomy is Sunday with shadows I spend it all.
My heart and I have decided to end it all
Soon there'll be candles and prayers that are said I know;
Let them not weep, let them know that I'm glad to go.
Death is no dream for in death I'm caressing you.
With the last breath of my soul I'll be blessing you.

Dreaming, I was only dreaming.
I wake and I find you asleep in the deep of my heart, here.
Darling I hope that my dream never haunted you.
My heart is telling you how much I wanted you.


http://www.thebestpageintheuniverse.net/c.cgi?u=manly_suicide


So what should it be?

Shiny metallic glistening in the light. Beckoning warmly. Crimson liquid would look gorgeous on that flawless surface. I ache to relish in that romantic, haunting moment. Half paralysis would be a certainty.

Three stabs before bed. Or seven slices before nightmare.

Scale the stories and land face first on the sidewalk? It'll only take a second.
The brain juices would be revolting but fuck.
You're not the one cleaning up.

There's an alternative if I chickened out of course. I'm a real baby when it comes to pain.



Twenty-seven of them. Little white capsules spilling out from the packet. The dosage said two. Take two before bed.

Or take all before breakfast.