The Blackest Incarnation

I'd like to meet:

The chair's been kicked, a rope tied to the rafters, blue-faced and broken-necked I die. Relieving my vision from the sick fucking stare of that hated sun burning, the sky. Slumped like a headless scarecrow, cold and limp against the wall. Blood paints a pattern of Rorschach's design, thawing the winter that burdens this heart.Shit-stained and shameful, an exit in disgrace. Not a splash but just a ripple left, I end this life in vain.In the dead of the darkness I breach the still lake, toward the reflection of the moon. The night-colored liquids arresting my lungs, finally at peace in this watery tomb.Destroy this fragile body to be gorged upon by worms. Not a splash but jsut a ripple is left in the wake of my merciless scorn.Beyond those cursed stars above lies the answer that I seek. On the backs of bullets rides my name, longing to kiss my cheek. Resentfully decline, retire this hated life. Without guilt I break these veins, carved with salvation's knife.Turn not away, avert not your face, this is how it was meant to be. In silence found hanging there 'bove a pool of waste, the beauteous workings of mortality. No one can truly touch another parallel never to cross. Pointless, fumbling, sad mistake only capable of pain.Beyond those cursed stars above lies the answer that I seek. On the backs of bullets rides my name, longing to kiss my cheek. Resentfully decline, retire this hated life. Without guilt I break these veins, carved with salvation's knife.