23 at midnight, man, but this time last year?
i was planning to take my last breath.
become ash in a jar,
all the weed smoke passed through my lungs/turned to black tar.
for once it actually felt like i had shit planned out,
the whole rest of my life:
step 1) purchase helium tank from party city,
step 2) let helium fill an empty garbage sack,
step 3) tie sack over my head,
step 4) huff helium till dead.
i picked a day, even, my birthday, april 12
this date made perfect sense, in a circular cosmological kind of sense,
and i thought it would look neat in an obituary.
then we totaled dane’s crown vic and i reconsidered.
i rediscovered my art. i met someone, discovered something in my heart.
found help, broke shit down, tore m y s e l f apart,
and i’m still breathing. still ready for another start.
crazy, cuz just a few weeks ago moms was on the phone for 44 miles of I-5,
telling me to just hang on, that everything was gonna be alright.
when i saw her face, the pressure in my lungs was freed, the air turned light,
and i told her everything, and she stayed up with me all night,
and then i crumpled up that suicide note and tossed that shit in the trash—
guess i got some more shit to say then, huh, before my time here has passed