Written by anyone else I would read what follows and guffaw,
No doubt!
And say between laughing tears,
"What a mug!"
"How insecure!"
Yet you cannot be insecure
About something which does not matter,
And neither can you feel dread
At something coming that
You do not mind about,

I can be objective and say
I knew this day would come,
And if not this day then one day
That the moment will arrive,
I can say the truth,
I love enough to let you go
And indeed dance at your wedding,
As indeed I shall if I am invited,
Yet the keen pain that I now feel is
More the knowing that those three

Small yet massive words we shared,
Rising inexorably from my heart
And yours (then at least),
Have changed everything for me,
Every. Thing.
And I can no more stiffen my lip nor
Be just pleased for you because my heart,
Oh GOD my poor bewildered heart
Is dying now inside my chest,

And with my heart dies the last
Vestige of hope for me,
Hope of a shoulder on which to lean in
Those rare times of need,
Hope of one to love me warts and all,
Hope of one into whom I can pour all of me
Without let or doubt or hindrance,
Hope for that one love we all crave,
And we all know that without hope?
We die.

There is for everything under heaven a time,
And mine has come,
And mine has been,
And mine has become history,
And so now time for something new,
For someone new,
Someone with whom to enjoy
The benefit of all the lessons learned
With me,
Someone fresh and unsullied
By our mistakes
And our cocking up,
The rows and the stupid misunderstandings,
A bright new future in
Those sunny uplands we oft discussed,
Those painful conversations
We both hated to perceive the truth of
Have come home at last to roost,
For everything under heaven
A time comes,
For everything and everyone
A time also leaves,
So now I am left,
Now I am alone,
As perhaps
Indeed
Should be.

We are all falling,
Life is a drop towards ending,
You dear reader,
And I,
And we can no more delay or adjust the
Speed of our descent
Than flap our arms right now
And take flight towards the clouds,

And though we may aspire to the heavens
The only route out of life
Is down,
Drawn by that terrifying gravity
That draws us ever faster
As the years pass,
Accelerating steadily through childhood
Adolescence and young adulthood,

Streaking past the unknown
Mid point of our lives
But suddenly aware we have less to go
Than we can know and less to get
Than we already had,
And that as we hurtle out of middle age
Puts a scale to our brief existence,
And a reasonable sight of our end,

But these calculations are of no use,
As our muscles sag and our hair thins,
Skin wrinkled and transluscent,
Eyesight dimmed,
Because we are tripped
By illness or literally in a fall
And thus we reach beginning of the final bend,
Our flailing stops

As we reach our journey's end

That I too decided to end my life,
And a fascinating process it was,
Or is indeed - who knows?
(Like a scout it is good to be prepared)

For first there was method and,
Applying that six step process I have so often taught,
I have to decide how long
Should the process take?

I do not wish to exit in pain
Nor rage or humiliation,
But calm and at peace with my choice
And with my action,

Maybe not a firearm then
For in emergency time slows and surely
The blast and rendering of face
And skull must hurt

So the same with hanging,
That sickening drop and
Thence to dangle as darkness gathers
And my bowels empty

So with dignity then,
These things matter after all
And this way at least I have control
Of these important details,

Poison?
Now there's a thing but
Poison is inimical to life,
So how might it feel to die
Destroyed that way?

The plot thickens as
The form of exit desired takes shape,
Comfortable and unafraid,
No pain

But concious to the very end
And so a warm bath,
A drink or two,
And feeling the lethargy

As my blood  pours
From my wrists,
The darkness is coming now,
It's harder to type
my focus is dim
it dark
i think im leavignow
bye

I have gained more than a few pounds of late
And my soul is feeling it too,
The fog and the darkness
Are gathering fast about me,
Smothering my endeavours and choking
My initiative,
Stopping me achieving for myself ,
Or others,

It's a sense of constantly impending doom
That follows me ever closer,
Patiently waiting to strike me down
Or just slowly asphyxiate my essence,
And remove me from that
Essential interaction with others,
And the thing is it is much like hypothermia
I know it's coming,
I know it's killing me,

And right now,

I just

don't

care

Eli Eli Lama Sabachthani?
Christ called out upon the cross
But I do not feel my God has forsaken me
For He promised He never will,
And my soul is in His keeping always,
But at the end Christ said
"It is finished"
And at that point He died

I will never cry Eli...
But "It is finished",
That line I feel is perhaps
Time to start rehearsing,
I do not wish to pass alone,
Unmourned un-missed,
Yet in may ways that is kinder than
Causing pain to those I love

Time then - in love - to open my hand,
Let go the people I would depend upon
And fade quietly from their ken before I die
Such that,
Once word reaches them
Of my demise - though I was not their foe,
They pause a moment only,
Then shrug and walk on

"Really? Oh"