- Non-Erotic Poetry
- The End
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Something some can never conceive
is how I die a hundred times a day.
My mind plays make believe
behind my eyes as each scene plays.
I watch in silence as I leave.
Death takes my hand as I walk away.
Once off a building I leapt,
till broken at the bottom I lay.
Another time I took pills and slept,
though in that sleep I would forever stay.
A knife in one was another concept -
the blood running from my wrists making my skin grey.
The deafening noise of a gun's load roar
was yet another that send me on my way.
Then lungs full of water as I reach the shore
after throwing my body into the bay.
Two questions ring loud over the years,
begging for answers to come to my ears.
Are these visions just insanity's fires?
Or are they my dark heart's deepest desires?
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