Today I contemplated suicide.
Today I succumbed to the shadows
And pondered the unthinkable.
My muse of late takes the form of death,
Assuring me that my next
Will be my final breath.

To the uninitiated this may seem
An easy route out,
But my convictions far outweigh
Their self assuming doubt.

(The bugs crawl
across my shoulders
scaling my neck
navigating my ear
entering my head)

Today, I begged for there to be a God
And for that God to be fair in judgment
And for that God to look down and
Witness me…motionless…startled…
Disoriented…solitary…
…scared;
To take pity on my micro-concerns,
Maggot-like in my manifestation;
And to arc down a single clap of thunder
Which pierces the water
And drags me asunder,
To depths way down
Past my own experience,
Down past the devil
And his pitiful allegiance,
Lower than the time
When he invited me in
Only for him to realize
He’d never met real sin.
There is comfort to be found
In self loathing.

(The bugs crawl
across my shoulders
scaling my neck
navigating my ear
entering my head)

Copyright Marc Hawkins 2015