what tomorrow brings.

xx. if i could ask death one question.

xx. IF I COULD ASK DEATH ONE QUESTION.

did you fear talking about it?
the moment you jumped from
a collapsing building,
feeling the brush of ruble on your
knuckles,
hoping the cracks of the sidewalk
would carry the fragments of your
lifeless body well.

did you fear talking about it?
mixing up a potion of medication
and alcohol,
hands shaking, eyes glued shut,
feeling the rush of the marked
pills travel down your throat,
the vodka leaving an ache that
made you feel more alive than
you did last summer with a sky
full of fireworks.

did you fear doing it?
marking up your skin
with fingers crossed
tighter than the nails
that held Jesus above
all else. watching the
blood trickle down
your arm, scratching
up the rivers under
the rough epidermis.
watching more than
just blood swirl above
the clogged drain.

did you fear doing it?
jumping into the deep
end, the only air left in
your body departing in
bubbles right before
your closed eyes. thoughts
eating your mind alive,
almost as if you had already
felt like you were drowning
long before jumping in the
water. scream as if the world
would leave earthquakes
named after you, take in the
water and feel complete again.

do you regret it?
with the suffocation
of an empty coffin,
tell me,
does the silk feel nice
against a dead soul?
lie awake six feet under
more restless than the
day you were born.
feel like you are at the
bottom of the lost and found,
only ever being the lost
and never the found.
talk to yourself to make
it less lonely. fill up the
wooden box with tears
you couldn't weep before.
try to escape out of a nailed
coffin, your soul heavier
than the sins you held up
in glory.

rot away, alone, covered
in soil as maggots become
the only friends you've ever
known.

do you regret it?