top of page

Woman Dies of Death

Woman dies of death. I look up how to kill myself with the pills I have on hand. It’s less than impressive. Benadryl. Lexapro. Hydroclorothiazide. There’s nothing deadly here aside from my own stupidity. I google that too.

…… Don’t you want to be one of them? Filled with silence Creeping liquid quiet Yearning for nothing? What’s it like to have no want in you? I ask myself, Don’t you want to be one of them? Each one a star in a sea of stars Gleaming with remembered light Reflections on sons and daughters and cousins and brothers Never knowing the truth, but who cares anyway Reflections become truth once we die And every admission, every lie, every laugh Is reabsorbed and becomes nothing again And really, who cares anyway When you die, I tell myself, No one will miss you for long. I write that down on my left thigh. When you die, I tell myself, Your friends will see you naked, Ugly-naked. They will find you however you left yourself They will have a very hard time moving you They will cut off your clothes And shake their heads And make small sad noises As they put your cut-up clothes in a brown paper bag And label it with your last name, first name, middle initial. They will bring the big cot. When you die, I tell myself, They will duct-tape your tits down, and hover-hand your purple fingertips together And drape a hospital gown over you, untied, one that was recently pulled off a Bill or a Jim Maybe take a picture so no one has to come here in person Maybe they can sign the paperwork themselves I like to keep things simple. When you die, your friends will touch your dry lips and wonder When you die, your friends will see your teeth and all your cavities They will wipe your flat ass clean They will wash and comb the blood from your hair And they will wonder which scars you made yourself, and which Were gifted, and by whom, But not too hard, because really, honestly, Who cares? When you die, they will read what you’ve written on yourself. If you’re reading this, I write on my tits, I needed your help sooner.

…… If you’ve seen one death, you’ve seen One death. In the end, it’s just the one That matters. Woman dies of death: a sort of drowning, Or an overdose, more like. No one misses her for very long, Because really, Honestly, Truly, Who Cares, anyway?

Single post: Blog_Single_Post_Widget
bottom of page