The differences
among cancer,
plane crashes,
and the noose
add up
to exactly
nothing.

Death has been waiting long
Death has been patient
But now Death has come

Filling me up with thoughts
That don't mean too much
Of anything is just a pastime
Of yours, and honestly I'm a little
Bored of this sad charade.

I'd like to feel something
On my very, very own
Just for once, to see if maybe
I'm not such an android

I want to see my own
Soul laid bare for another
Human, and maybe theirs
Splayed out like wet clothes
On a string blowing in the
Soft summer breeze for

Only me to see.