Suicide
I thought of killing myself today
got my gun from the closet
I hide it way in the back
under old shoes, shirts, and other shit
meaningless stuff that gathers dust.
I pulled it out and looked at it
all shiny and clean
it’s a symbol of something
what?
I forget …
I look around the house
searching for my bullets
remembering a routine from Cheech & Chong
where else, up his nose!
I find one in a coffee cup
filled with pens and pencils
and other more meaningless shit
like a stir from a bar
the night we met.
The bullet is jacketed
works best in an automatic
roll it a round in my hand
smooth and cold to the touch
such deadly precision.
You’ve got to admire the bastard
the workman
who invented such an efficient machine
I wonder if he ever thought
of using it in such manner?
I eject the clip
and insert the bullet
slam the clip back in the handle
click, click, clack
the sound of determination.
Cock the gun
and hold it to my temple
and I wait …
and I think for a minute …
What should I do?
Are things really this bad?
Would anyone miss me if I were gone?
Would anyone care?
Would anyone cry?
Would I be missed?
I gather up my resolve
and I press the metal had against my flesh
one more time
a strained look is on my face
I am oh so determined
to do myself in.
But, then I stop
I put the gun down
by my side
and I tell myself
no, not this time
not right now
maybe latter.
There is always later …
A flood of guilt washes over me
and I eject the clip
and remove the bullet
place it back in the cup
rushing down the hall
to place the gun back in the case
and hide it under all that stuff
A sigh of relief
not this time
maybe tomorrow
for sure later …
© Deep Piercing Cut 2008
