A wish in early morning

I must die this year. Please.

So missing my babies.

My dearest babies, my Boobie, my Almond, my Vixen.
I miss all of you so terribly.
With you, my Vixen, the pain is the greatest: it was only 16 months ago that I lost you, and I still think of that loss, the last days, your getting sick, my decision to let you.
Our time was too short, 14 years, 12 years, 13 years--all too short.
Life remains dark without you. The pain never ends.
I am so, so poor without you.
I long to be with all three of you again.
I will love you always, my babies, and I will always feel your absence.
My dearest Boobie, Almond, Vixen.

"Waitress"

I see you, and suddenly death is life:

mourning itself slithers away.

I am different, I am reborn, I am alive.

I am oblivious to my grief,

indifferent as a man who feels not and sees not

but this suddenly painful desire.

I see nothing but your hair and your haughty eyes;

you see through me and I do not care.

I see you, and life has not been taken from me,

when in fact it has, and death is imaginable.

I see you, and in death I am alive,

in this wonderful illusion of life.

The inconsequential is not, where darkness suddenly

is light, and death is life.

I breathe and desire:

my sunset is the same from one day to the next.

The whiskey dulls my pain, but opens my eyes.

I see you, a shadow in a dream so suddenly real,

as your own haughty eyes see through me:

I am not even here.

I am an old man in death mode.

###

At 51

It's my birthday.
I know you're there. I know you're there.
You know my birthday wish.

Just asking for mercy

I've wanted to die since December 20, 2011.
No rationalizations.
Just a wish for mercy.
Call me a bad person, if you wish, but grant me that mercy.
After all this time, give me mercy.
After all this time.
Still, nothing.
Does mercy even exist?