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