Dirt Nap

Should darkness come

and leave me none the better

I'll sleep the sleep of unrest

and awaken in this stuffy room.

 

I took a measure of fine hemp

and lay it to test, across my neck,

but found the stock quite itching

and lacking in useful length.

 

Each day comes as a total surprise

awakening to the prior nights mess

of whisky bottles and empty pill vials;

my throat dead and my head twice size.

 

To the zoo, to the opera, to the mall,

to the 85th floor and looking down...

it seems a tiny trip,

looking from my hole here in life.

 

Again, should darkness come

and catch me napping

tell them all I said I loved you.

Let them know it seemed easier this way.

Reviews

[Ninja Empyrean]

Most poems about death, suicide, contemplating either... are dark, but not so objective. They say depression breeds depression, and I definately sense this in the narrator. He has plenty of ammunition to keep him/her shooting in this direction. I really liked the fourth stanza, I followed the narrator around and to the talletst building, and saw what a short trip it was... especially in light of the long drawn out awful existence this creature is crawling along. I never understood, not taking anything from this poem, how suicides preofess thier love for thier circles. Love tends to be double edged, and to love usually, though not always comes from being loved... at least at some point in time. Hmmm... I'm blessed to have never felt life was to hard, to gravid to carry, that feeling of hopelessness has to be damning. If darkness comes, it will definately instigate an inky shade.