I know what you have done,
Your sins,
Those little infidelities
that slip from the prongs of a fork
and evade your lips.
Finger and thumb,
Roll a death-stick and believe
that magic plants
and distillation will make it go away,
Vodka gun,
Take aim and fire,
Wash down the little orange pills
hoping that
if you never wake up at least
you will not have to live in limbo anymore,
At least you did not have to decide
between two halves of yourself.
But,
If there is more than now, then
maybe next time you will be
different people
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