Death becomes me.

and it comes again.
after so long.
years and years i have kept it at bay,
but yet it is (has been) a part of me. for so long.
I think, something is wrong with me.

I fantasize about my death
be it drowning,
falling,
disease,
loss of blood.
out of (or in) my control.

I dream of:

Water rising up, above my head
as i sink to the bottom,
deeper and deeper.
it caresses my skin as
i slip below the depths.
and no one
no one will find me here.

I slip off a cliff,
and the ground rapidly approaches me.
The greeness of the grass - the trees.
and i long to join the earth and become part
of this beauty.
a part of this world.
If I just reach out my hand, i could touch the
soil rushing toward me.
and then my end will be the beginning of something new.
something else.

I collapse on the ground, no energy,
nothing left of me.
my hair slips between my fingers
and it's gone.
all gone.
I'm bald, and naked, and crying.
It creeps along my veins and there is no escape.
a couple days, and it will be all over.
the laughter, the tears, all gone.
I no longer have the strength to fight this.

The blood seeps from my wounds,
seeps into the earth around my lifeless body.
the brown soil turns red.
I swim in seas of red.
and it's all gone.
I'm far gone
from here.

It's all over. for now.

The romanticism of death. It's all I have.
All I am.