Give Me A Gun

She loves me now.

I don’t want her to love my decrepitude, yet she might!

I need to find a way to avoid this, this noble pity, the ethereal love

That will not see the sunken flesh,

That will not heed the moist eyes and dribbling mouth,

That will dress my rottenness in clothes of eternal beauty…

But if I’m putrid, that’s what I am!

Bless my soul, I will not fool myself, or let them fool me.

I have known this body for too long, my body;

It has been very dear to me.

It is going to pieces now,

It’s going to the dogs!

I can’t bear it any longer.

The pointlessness of my life is felt more acutely now that its terminality becomes more apparent.

Impatiently, I want to end it all now,

What the hell am I going on for?

So give me a gun, now.