I could die, but I don't care

Sadly my life is not my own

And if I talked like that around my

mother

brother

significant other

They'd lock me down inside my home

It's not my life so much, you see

Because I've given it away

And now those I promised to love forever

Are holding me to what I say

So here I sit, dejected

Drinking water, eating greens

Trapped inside this same old house

'Cause they want me to quarantine

Can't eat those sweets

Can't drink that booze

Can't hoard my coffee

Can't hit that snooze

Can't run amok

Can't run astray

Can't run downtown

Can't run away

I didn't mean it literally

However their interpretation's fair

If I don't stick around to love them

How can I prove I really care?

I don't wear seatbelts anymore. Maybe it's to make up for a rebellious nature I've never had, or maybe I just don't like constructing my lungs anymore than they already are.

I lean too far over the edge of bridges and stare too long outside my mother's window on the twentieth floor of her office building. I don't shy away from the thought of flattening against the car parallel parked below; I invite the feeling of weightlessness to take over.

I let my bicycle almost careen over the ledge, almost pull me into the ditch, almost barrel into the stop sign. I think I just want to know if the car will stop for me if I pull out slow enough. And sometimes I wonder if I'll ever let myself hit the sign.

I used to wrap my curtains around my neck and tightrope walk along the foot of my bed. Once, I fell and sprained my ankle. I didn't tell anybody how it happened.

I used to hold onto the top of my dresser to see if it would fall on me. I would hang upside down until the blood rushed to my head because I liked the feeling. I would stop eating for a day, so I could pretend I was in the Jamestown colony. I would hold white crayons to my lips and wonder about lung cancer. I would hold my breath until my face turned blue.

I don't want to die, not really. It's just that sometimes I wouldn't care if I did.

Because, speaking philosophicaly,

It would not mater should I live or die

Death is a fact of life, that is true,

And yet, we seem very afraid of it.

Come now, reasonable minds of great,

Realize that death is inevitable.

For truly, should I die this second,

It is only a death that is slightly

Sooner than what I would have preferred.

A billion years from now, it will

Not have mattered should I live or die,

To perish, because time will forget all.

Little more than a year ago, I wrote, Must be the heat in which I expressed my shock and dismay at all the little furry (and feathery) creatures in the area appearing to commit suicide. (You can read it here - https://theprose.com/post/282706/must-be-the-heat.) Well, I am unhappy to report that evidence of my hypothesis is piling up (no pun intended): As summer heats up, animals are attempting suicide left and right, yet again.

As I noted in my earlier report, I am not talking about the confused creatures who are too impatient to sit and wait until there are no vehicles coming, or who are oblivious because they are chasing a friend or foe, or who cannot judge the velocity of an oncoming car and so scamper across, thinking they have all the time of the world. Nor do I mean the dare-devil birds trying to prove they can fly faster than we can drive.

No.

I am talking about the heart sick – or heat sick – critter who, rather than swiftly fleeing to the safety of the side of the road – a garden, the forest, the sidewalk for goodness sake – instead, moseys to the center of the road and sits there. Or who deliberately waits at the side of the road until a car is coming and then, when death seems to be the only possible outcome, takes off.

Like the goose sitting in the middle of the street Saturday morning. All the other geese were sunning by the side of the lake. Was he ostracized? Unloved? Did he lose a battle for dominance? Something must have happened. Not only was he not waddling. He wasn’t moving. He just sat there, daring the cars. When one car looked to take the dare, my husband ran into the street. He was scarier than a moving car, I guess. The goose flew-waddled to the other side. (The car didn’t hit my crazy husband either.)

Or the robin that was sitting sadly on the side of the road until he saw a car coming, then, when the car was within five feet, decided to fly in front of it. I closed my eyes and screamed. I didn’t look back. My husband said the car missed it by inches. That was possibly a case of the bird playing chicken, but he had such a despondent air as he sat there waiting for traffic. (And now I am wondering if it was the same bird that crashed into the front window of my house a few days later. He left a mess, but apparently was not successful in that attempt either.)

Then there were the possums. Now, I have not seen a live possum in more than a dozen years. I have now seen two dead ones within a day of each other on the same stretch of road. I think maybe the first one was an accident. The second one was heartsick. I mean, you see a dead comrade, you think, hey, this is a dangerous place, I should go back, not, hey, I think I’ll cross here, too. No, definitely a suicide.

The saddest, by far, was the baby woodchuck. I mean, so young to feel so hopeless. My guess is he had lost his parents – woodchucks are the worst when it comes to safely crossing the street – and decided to follow in their footsteps. Literally. Fortunately, he was unsuccessful, at least as I stood there screaming, NOOOOOO, Don’t gooooooooo! The car he was aiming for screeched to a halt – not sure if it was because of the adorable fur ball rolling across the street or the lunatic woman screaming at the side of the road, but no matter, no suicide on my watch.

So, beware and take care: Slow down on the roads and watch out for woebegone wildlife!

Let me die as a passionate lover,

Eyes fixed solely on her.

Fiercely pursuing your heart from now until the end,

Remembered fondly as a lover and a friend.

Let me die for a worthy cause,

Standing against tyranny's jaws.

Enduring blow after blow without retreat,

Dying firmly on my feet.

Let me die as a good man,

Always ready to lend a helping hand.

Though evil claws at me every day,

May I never be led astray.

Let me die as a hero,

Like a Spartacus and not a Nero.

Never prolonging the end. Living honest, free and brave,

Never dying as a slave.

I could die, but I don’t care

How could I when reality sets in

And I realize how little time I have left

How little time before I belong

To someone else

I could die, but I don’t care

Because the adrenaline makes me feel

Superhuman

I know I’m not

But that’s part of the fun

My mortality keeps me going

Keeps me pushing forward

Because these knees won’t be good forever

And someday my long hair

Will turn gray and coarse

I could die, but I don’t care

Because when I’m gone I won’t feel

The pain of a heartbreak

Or a scraped up knee

But those I leave behind

Will remember my free arms

Raised to the sky

Living for myself

Or a couple of risky late nights

I could die, but I don’t care

Because I’m leaving behind

A good story

My intestines are in the world's tightest balloon animal. Though it didn't phase me when it happens, the old white man pointing at me sticks in my mind. I didn't do anything but exist. I was just on my way to work, like my cousin was when some guys ran up on him, took his money, and shot him dead. Of course, if anything happens to me, it would be more widely publicized. I would be on T-shirts worldwide. Al Sharpton would speak at my funeral. The old man would spend his last few weeks free since nothing would happen to him no matter what he did to me. Nonetheless, if my parents don't offer to take me to work, I will be on that same path, diligently watching my back as I trek the half-mile to my job. My peaceful walk that usually helps me relax and gather my wandering thoughts will be tinged with fear and anxiety. But, it will all worth it to get my $200 paycheck tomorrow.

I could die,

but I don’t care

I’m never good enough

but if I stay

just for today

we could fall in love.

I’d bring you tea

we could dance

and sleep and smile and run

but honestly

you’ve never seen

how I could be someone

So all I want

just one request

is that when I decide

to spill my blood

and leave the world

promise that you cried.

i can’t sleep

i just shiver underneath thin sheets

my eyes closed in an attempt to

defeat the darkness surrounding me

i try desperately to breathe

but a bitter hand is choking me

i can’t see

but i know the ghosts are taunting me

my demons deepen all my wounds

manipulate my brain

as i strain to find a place

where i know i can be okay

but i am inundated with an invitation for an imitation

of the dawn

an exaggeration of a flame

a neon blaze to

simulate salvation

they tell me

every word i ever uttered

will swiftly be undone

as long as i pledge allegiance

to the master of the dusk

i fall into the abyss

darkness seeps into my skin

i’ve given up this fight

so i let oblivion win

a fire incinerates my emaciated frame

demons i tried to escape

are grinning as they leer at my waste

of a life

i grimace softly as they jeer in my face

i try to run away but my feet burn on the coals ablaze

while the demons wrap their cracked palms around my skeleton waist

i scream

but it is an empty breath

because my mouth is filled with death

i realize

i am nothing but a hole to hold

a thousand shards of pain

suddenly i jolt awake

and glimpse a familiar face

my heart starts and i am filled with

something i can’t quite place

i hear a hidden whisper say

what you feel is grace