suicide sundays
the heat of saturday night strangely transfers to the morning light of every sunday morning. as it creeps through my blinds it leads to a jump-start to the day in my semi-conscious state, i say “today is the day the day i die” a peculiar motivation as i pull myself up and decide whether i should hurl myself off from the window or if i should OD on Dolo or do it in the most domestic way possible? cut myself with the sharpest knife available lengthwise, of course, just by the median nerve while cherishing the knife’s straight curve as it slits and snips oh yes this is it