Love Letter

Goodbye is the only way.

My love,

My heart and brain have been �" eaten.

Please stop. Your efforts to keep me will not be �" sweetened.

Nothing remains. What a cliché to say only a empty shell is left behind.

So happy I could die. No, you misunderstand. I don’t mean I’m so happy that I can die happily. I am happy that I am able to die. That soon I would have brought this madness to a stillness.

This world into oblivion.

Begin my descent into delirium.

Is life worth living, should I blast myself?

The hold tightens, suffocates, secures, and congeals.

A suicidal tendency that has always been �" concealed.

You’re cordially invited to my hara-kiri.

While I ponder weak and weary.

The self-slaughter of my thoughts, the self-destruction of my own heart �" I will not let you take it from me.

Forgive me when I ignore your hard cried pleas.

I swear to God I want to just slit my wrists and end bullshit/Throw the magnum to my head, threaten to pull s**t.

See the necrosis of my being. I die now. I die soon.

Three days buried beneath the earth induces madness. Feral and wounded �" it will not be lifted from me.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow.

Self-murder is hopeful. It is brave. Don’t call me selfish. Don’t tell me to keep fighting. You want to keep me here, like a hostage. We both know it’s for your own piece of mind. Not mine.

Sometimes even to live is an act of courage.

A self-hate you have failed to realize I’ve �" nourished.

I want to die. I want to evaporate. Disappear. In life I am the unliving, the walking dead.

The Grim Reaper will not come to take me. I have made my own ruination appointment.

I am scheduled to die even through your �"  disappointment.

Suicide is man’s way of telling God, “You can’t fire me �" I quit.”

You cry out when it is your love and not death that I �" spit.

Take a good look. Don’t ever forget. Cause’ this is the last time you will ever see my face.

I feel you. Remember you. Love you. You are a harbinger of peace. Of mind. Of heart. Of spirit. You bring beauty and life.

I wish you hadn’t asked me to be your �" wife.

This will all end soon with a knuckle-guarded �" knife.

But it’s alright, I’ll be seeing you again from the �" afterlife.

You must have figured out by now that, still, I want to die.

You want me to deny, but all I can do is �" defy.

Remember me softly, my dear, not so harsh and jagged. By the time you receive this, the weapon to my brain will have already �" zigzagged, past the doorways that have been �" sandbagged.

Forever your ghost, your love.