The first time I died
it was in flame and smoke and blood and fear
in broken body and shattered limb
to wake to resurrection and nightmare
and a life of jump scares and acute vigil
The second time I died
it was in great sobs of alcohol and proffered pills
in broken spirit and shattered mind
to wake to charcoal and stomach pumps
and shame
they asked me then, aren’t you glad
you did not end, is there not reason
for laughter and love
My reply I remember was clear
that I would not have wished their saving graces
or heroic efforts to bring back from death’s empty gaze
I saw no shining lights nor warm embrace of peace
no beginning in that end
there is nothing on that other side and nothing was
what I sought
an insignificant end to an insignificant presence
If asked today I would still reject those efforts
to keep my breath alive, those intervening years
only more sorrows and loss
so I await some merciful annihilation
the dissolution of decay in the consummation
of being. A coda if you will
these words spilled in ink and blood on
pages of notebook and screen
none of wisdom or wit or charm or sagacity
just the paltry musings of a lonely man

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