He handed out love
Like it was an object
In a gift-wrapped box
With gift receipt taped on
After few times use
They went to the store
They got a full refund
He never got back
What he freely gave

I’m still young
He thought
I’m just enjoying life
He thought
I really care about those women
He thought
I’m being honest about my feelings
He thought
I’ll find the right one this way
He thought
Twenty-eight women later

He was more degraded
Than ever before
The number wasn’t impressive
He certainly wasn’t proud
He’d rather it roll back
To zero or maybe one or two
At the most. Only those few
First cuts who left their mark
Were still on his mind from
Time to time or all the time
Depending on how honest
He was on that particular day
He’s a suicide case
He feels sick to his stomach
Unsteady, faint, vertigo
He falls - falls - has fallen
He feels a hand at his neck
His chest tight like a rope
Was wrapped around it
Tied to a pick up truck
And drove forwards at full speed
Clutching him ever tighter
His breath sapped from his lungs
“I only want to be a better man
A better man than I am
To live and not to fear
To thrive on happiness
Not fall into the same old trap
Of mortal hungers”
These words loop in his head
Like a broken record
Light fades from his eyes
A ringing floods his ears
Like the dial-tone of an old phone
Left hanging on the cord
When a call is long over
The choice is his to try again
His alone
Either to live on
- or -
To die a lump on the stone cold floor
He starts to cry
He’s full of fear
- but -
No one’s half as anxious as the crowd