I could've done so at the twilight of my days while I dose off on a creaking rocking chair my old lean limbs entangling down my crooked joints melded to the arm rests my heavy head resting on my collarbone oblivious as I mercifully approach from the back gently stepping on the tube leading oxygen to my dying body watching as my breath become heavy as my blocked throat wheeze in exhaustion as my stressed lungs finally collapse as I quietly yield to sleep.
I could've done so sometime tomorrow or yesterday As I lay asleep on my back snoring as usual in an instant I'll roll over and be on top of myself clasping at my mouth and nose pressing my full body weight as I jolt awake, panicked and confused my arm randomly flailing around torn prayer flags swooped by a hurricane my fingers digging into the flesh of my arms attempting to pull me apart until finally my stubborn grip overcomes and defeated I dim onto stillness save for a twitch here or there.
I chose to do so in my youth as the texture of a heavy rope grazes and bruises the skin on my neck while I send a chilling smile at myself from across the room pulling a handle that drops the floor beneath my feet accelerating for the first time relishing the hissing air the absence of gravity catching with my eyes my penetrating gaze older than I am full of grief, fatigue, and divination cut by the cracking rope torn like my snapped neck with a hallow sound much less revolting than I thought watch me dangling like a ragged pendulum a grotesque puppet an unripe miscarriage feeling but a slight pinch of regret for never knowing this moment