Saturday, May 24, 2008
Image from suicide.
Why can't I treat this like poetry? Just take a razor blade between my fingers and slash it across my wrist;Watch blood gush like a stream of red wine down my arms; Can you tell the difference between the smell of fresh blood from cheap perfume?
Why can't I treat this like any other activity?
I could throw myself off a cliff while whistling;
I could jump off the bridge, laughing in the nude;
I could dance across a busy street while the traffic lights turn green;
I could drink poison, pretend it tastes like honey.
I could drive my car blind-folded as if I am riding a plane
I could speed around a dangerous curve and crash into a tree.
Why can't I treat this like religion?
I could light candles and burn incense at the altar
Recite the rosary a million times backwards, swear upon the bible
I could even emulate Jesus by walking bare-footed on water
I could climb the railings of an eighteenth floor apartment balcony
And step out into thin air.