strangely—
i’ve been getting these dreams.
these dreams are about death,
but not some stranger’s,
my own.
not only is it my own death,
but it’s the way i do it—
it’s been different everytime.

my brunette locks waving slowly
as i fight the water—drowning.

tears running from my emerald eyes,
as i slice my arms open in a bathtub.

my lifeless body swinging,
whilst hanging from a rope.

tears and screams escaping,
as i hold a pistol in my mouth.

my soft skin burning,
while i’m surrounded by flames.

my realization of my loneliness,
as my heart breaks.

god help me.