I'd never end my life on purpose.
   I couldn't pull my own trigger or
   swallow my hand full of pills or
   jump from egotistical heights to
   look like a broken doll discarded.

   I daydream of situations where I
   have tests and see my doctor who
   delivers bad news, the worst news.
   I'm stoic. I refuse chemo. I'm done.
   I'll die in a morphine haze happy.

   When is old too old? My days are
   reruns of reruns. I won't find the
   love of my life. I won't break hearts
   or have mine broken. I've lived the
   Kama Sutra with a sore back for it.

   Maybe the snake hair girl will
   look deep into my soul and see a
   piece worth stealing and hold me
   in her bed and whisper as I look
   into her eyes and turn to stone.