She asks me, Can you perform literary suicide by writing yourself out of existence?
suicide is, in reality, a messy and problematic thing to do.
There is no guarantee in drinking gallons of Gallo or gin
fights that bust dental work and cause permanent joint pain,
may or may not take you to the other side
motorcycle crashes, guns, a slow moving waltz towards a semi
do not provide a money back guarantee
and after all your efforts
you may still have to explain to friends and family why
you woke up spooning a shotgun.
It takes a lot of energy to override survival instincts
fight or flight wrestling for control
your body tossed around like a seagull in a jet air stream
this struggle to not be here
there was a moment
an intolerable moment, that lasted forever
even after it ended
she lives with that moment
she has tried to make it disappear
has decided, she will try to disappear
writing a fictional world where she doesn’t exist
How will you live in a world where you don’t exist? I ask her.
Precisely. She replies.
If you scream who will hear it?
If you crystallize then shatter into a million pieces, who will notice?
If you slowly disappear, limbs dissipating like clouds, no one will pay any attention.
If you cut yourself nobody will look at you with sad eyes.
Maybe that’s the point
no one listened when she screamed
or noticed when she disappeared inside herself like a tumor
left alone for so long, while
being paid attention to in the worst possible ways
she stopped struggling outright
focused on how to not be
in the moment
not be there, then
She smiles wide
It will be so much better there,
action figures with realistic body proportions and flat feet
a killer sound track
they never played X when I had to pull down my panties and play ride the horsey,
here, I can crank out Exene Cervenka and Corrosion of Conformity any time
What is the soundtrack to a literary suicide
a graphic novel kamikaze?
You make the play list
construct the dialogue
call the plays
edit, loop, cut
Exist by not existing
no longer struggling to subdue
bashed into momentary non-existence by bare-knuckled fistfights with your hippocampus.
available to anyone with an imagination
a willingness to use language, a syntax placebo effect
you don’t get arrested
wake up on a parking strip in the middle of Yakima
no overdraft fees
no std’s, or cracked teeth
no awkward smiles at the person you wake up with
a parade of characters
and endless possibilities