Me sitting in a chair with my usual poor posture
-we'll call this rest.

Behind me, a beautiful white ****** canvas
-we'll call this potential.

A shotgun loaded with paintbrushes
-we'll call this the medium.

Barrel in my mouth, the trigger clicks, then
  BOOM   
-we'll call this expression.

Look past my limp soulless body to the now finished canvas. What do you think?
-we'll call this interpretation.

The reds are deep and the blues are true; little chunks of grey matter
-we'll call this promise.

However, it all dries black in the end    
-we'll call this accurate.  

Me still alive in my chair staring at the wall. Pen in my mouth. Ink in my teeth
-we'll call this gnashing insignificance.

Where would you go,
Stopping I am not,
Go if you want to go,
Remembering me you are not,
As I'm not interested,
Wishing you quicker recovery,
Wherever you'll fall,
Caring I am not,
Just go if you wanna go.

Because lonelier you left me here,
You better need not to come ever,
I have earlier survived alone as well,
You weren't here near my deathlike bed,
There had been both of my parents,
Only expecting me as a robot in return,
And I found you absent when I needed,
Oh this is only the revelation of my life,
Such a fool I expected you to be my wife.

Now I can imagine what I was spared from,
I was spared from the splitter-splatter stuff,
And of course the kitchen's blitter-blatter bluff,
Because I am sure that I can prepare better food,
Much better than your fickle-minded self could,
Lovelier is my hand's company to my big head,
I imagine stuff and fantasize howsoever it feels fit,
And of course, I don't need your help for that,
I just go fap-fap, splitter-splatter & blitter-blatter.