Seven minutes ago I needed to start
Crying.
Seven hours ago I still couldn’t say
A word.
Seven beautiful days. I wasn’t sure
In dying.
Seven terrible months. I needed to make it
Stop.

Alone or together with my little-enough-
Thought.
Creating weather conditions for my
Own end.
A spoon or a knife. Maybe rope. Smoke a dope‒
All for naught.
The sign on the road told me to make a
Stop.

And now I am waiting for never-sleeping
Patrol.
Waiting-night-gazing‒stargazing into the
Light.
Trying to smoke but I don’t have a Light-
-Er.
Ashes on my naked knees could’t help it but
Stop.                                                        Existing.

Surely not. Surely maybe I Am
Sick.
My mind trying to leave me one nuisance
Quits.
I’m looking at freezing icicles. I’m scared to
Lick.
Maybe my tongue will forget every kiss. I
Stop.

Stop believing, stop praying, stop stopping
Again.
Stop breathing, stop holding my breath under-
Life.
Stop living, stop loving, stop laughing. I will forget and
Stop.
And Stop. Now Stop. Don’t Stop. Last Stop. Last thought and
I Stop.