The A Most Often Missed In Suicide
It isn't the daemon within me that talks of death;
but the angel. People often get this wrong.
They think I am fighting it's calling message.
A wicked hangover
from the time they would bury me
at crossroads, standing up, driven over, spat on:
it's sheer jealousy. If it were the the daemon
it would be more fun. Certainly.