Press Play Here
Foreword: Warning, this poem touches in the area of ending one’s own life. It is just a time snapshot on a phone of my life and isn’t something I
would ever do. And I wouldn’t want to do anything but discourage those thoughts in my listeners, but acknowledging them as a feeling is part of feeling when very bad stuff happens. So if that’s you, pause, wait—don’t, think, (no, not don’t think; don’t—comma—think). No, don’t think about commas. I mean pause. Wait. Is waiting like pausing? It’s a bit longer. Wait a bit longer.
Talk to someone.
Escape Escape Escape. Escape. Get me out— get me out of here. You don’t love me, don’t want me. god- the pain, the ache. These long years, these best years, given to someone who doesn’t love me. Your fear— fear of being alone— that’s all that kept you with me. Death. For a moment I feel it. I am it. For a moment I feel death secretly— wish it for a moment upon myself. Oh, you selfish, self-absorbed fuckwit. Get back to yourself. You don’t have the luxury of that. You have two children. Get back to work. You have many who love you, and like you. Death? It’s just a temporary feeling. Think of the trees— do they worry? Think of the birds— you’re like them, soon to be free. Get back to work. Get back to the gym. Look your children in the eyes. Put away that thought.
