Hey young man, nervously idling away the fresh blood the creator sent you, Cowering, afraid of bounteous opportunity while blood turns stale and the keen head turns to mush, Stop lying to yourself and to your love, desist in piling worries upon her tender frame!
Whilst the blood congeals in the veins The eyes can grow dull and sickness can mollify the restless spirit. Open the cells to mineral impregnation, Calcifying the legs, then the waist, then the chest…
No need for anything dramatic. No need to open up the veins in hot bath, And bitterly expire beside the 2 in 1 shampoo/conditioner As unsuspecting house-mate knocks patiently on the bathroom door: “(KNOCK, KNOCK KNOCK) are you going to be long in there? I need a poo.” Why ruin a good door-frame by forcing said house mate into shouldering door from hinge Only to stumble across sprawled carcass bobbing softly in reddened lukewarm water Wearing swimming trunks for modesty’s sake.
Why face the posthumous embarrassment Of having your rambling, hastily scrawled farewell note; Marred with emo clichés and syntactical errors, Poured over and scrutinised by judgemental mourners.
Nah. Just lock that bathroom door deep within your soul And let the childlike ambitions and desires that defined you Sink beneath the lapping waters. Soldier on, mourning the demise of the inner self, for now Where the excision took place is tender and red But it will heal. And you will be free from the burden of self-reflective expectation, You can dine with the servants; **** up to the inept boss, Discard the heavy crown of ambition And walk with a light and merry step into the silence of the grave.
And whilst this resignation is all very well for a piece of self-pitying prose Maybe you owe it to that guileless infant (who art the father of the man writing this) To do better by him than drown him, Letting him Go Gentle into That Good Night Simply because In the face of unwavering actuality He has become an inconvenience.
I am nowhere near as prolific as I would like. Or as I used to be when I was a fizzing bag of hormones.