My fingers hurt from pulling off the skin
anxiously awaiting apocalypse and
hoping fleshly pain can take my mind away
as racing pressure pushes me to look upon death\'s countenance with glee.
Nothing\'s working, thoughts overwhelming,
I am drowning in my woes.
No one\'s understanding, myself notwithstanding,
Death gives me her hand and then she gives me confidence
to do the dreadful deed.
\"What about your pops
and your mom
and your friends
and your guinea pigs?\"
Let my corpse speak to how fatherly,
how motherly,
how friendly they were.
My dad calls, I tell him \"I\'m doing well.
I took a walk to clear my head\"
As I carry my crown in a plastic bag
I know I have a throne in hell
but God\'s the one who should have taken me while I was pious
I open the door, no one\'s home
Mom\'s at work, Dad left some years ago
If I could, I would shed tears
but Death guides me to my room.
In my closet there\'s a rail,
take my clothes up off it
place my final garment
nylon rope with a little tape on it.
I leave no notes \'cause no words could evoke
the painful stroke
of young life cast in the dirt
Ashes up in smoke
Now there\'s no remorse
Death\'s my only course
I get up in that rope
Empty my lungs and choke
To the sea of flames I go
Moments later, I wake with a nasty bruise,
bleeding from my wound, nylon necklace must be broken
Disbelieving, pain-stricken and mostly blind
Vomit expels from my body
Inhale the chunks, hack up the blood from my lungs
My arm twitching as I fail to move my legs
Moaning, flailing what I can, swimming in bloody vomit
Making low, wet groans as the panic sets in
Broken in body and spirit,
when will God receive his son?
How will mom receive her son?
\"How could I have been this dumb?\"
I thrash in rage and terror
More wet yells
Blood expels
I scratch my useless eyes
I know now I\'m in hell