Things have been far too trying
For me to think of dying
There's very little left
And yet I'm not alone

Sickened, that's what I am
By myself, at intervals
When I STOP TO THINK
Don't want to think when you
Can drink.

Walking, faster and more fearfully
Striding through the night with
Pauses to read Grasse
Or Solzhenitsyn

Comfort in not being who I am
Please don't think about me anymore
Because I certainly shall not.