there are brief moments when I can smell death
for a second, ******* I can taste it
and it makes me believe that it is preferable
to whatever the alternatives are.
never can I sense the aroma
when I contemplate suicide
with hot tears running down
my impassible face covered by the shade of night.
it is when I am in fair spirits
then suddenly someone laughs
and more someone's laughs
and I do not
Why hasn't joy infected me, too?
Then is when I taste it
A bittersweetness that is better
than bland that I've been tasting.
Or perhaps when someone asks me a question
seconds pass and I've opened twice only to shut it
I don't know… is all I can muster
because my mind is stimulated by sweetness again
by death