I suffocate.
I breathe.
There's poison, there's water.
Both bring Death.
Good bye.
. . . or is it?
Not yet.
Dangerous. Don't go plunging into places.
I lost my head.
Then my heart.
Again. And again. And again. I never learn.
Good Lord -- does He even listen?
He's ignorant.
The drugs aren't.
The buildings aren't.
The knives aren't.
And all are looking at me.
Toxic.
Have a bite. That red liquid from your mouth.
Sewn closed.
Drink me. That burning in your throat.
Choking.
Push me. That chair toppling away from your feet.
Jump up high -- I've forgotten how to fly.
Grab me. That sensation around your neck.
Tightening.
Throw me. That red flower blossoming on your chest.
Stabbing.
Pull me. That cold metal against your head.
Shots fired.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
I fell from grace.
No.
It must feel good.
But in fact,
I feel nothing.
Good bye.
Or... is it?