Last night, I sat on top of my radiator, the window cracked slightly open
So I could feel the wind brush my feet

And for only the third or so time,
the cold voice in my head whispered
suicide

It was not a want
More a playful experiment with ideas

The voice ran a quick calculation
Of how easy it would be just to
fall
Go into the bathroom, grab a razor and
answer some higher call

And I recoil from the thought
Not because I know it should seem
wrong
But because I'm scared of how easy it would be

I lean toward the egde of the radiator

The I pull down the shade of the window and walk away.