Don’t push me…

Because I am already hurtling over the edge, please don’t make my last moments any harder than they have to be. ^0 – 0^

The needles, the splitting, the horrible pounding in the back of my head, I can’t stand the noise – but there’s nothing I can do – its oozing and pouring out of me! Please someone clobber me over the head, I really want to stop…..

The jerks and the hiccups hurt, they’re ripping my tender insides and loosening my frail grip on sanity. Grief be still, you only held the door of death open, you always do -this brush was too close (we all hope for death to be quick, so when it lingers & you have the audacity to survive… it hurts real bad).


~ by tashpoeme on March 7, 2009.

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