He killed himself on a Thursday afternoon. He wasn't too sad, things were actually going pretty well. He had lost track of time and he was staring at a wall, listening to the same two tracks on repeat. It didn't quite help that he had his bottle of Benadryl sitting open at his feet. It was a split second decision, an idea that popped into his head on ignition. He spilled the pills out in is hand and he threw them down his throat like sand and just like that he was gone.
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A Few Gentle Phrases
PoetryEvery once in a while I think of some phrases and write them down. Here they are.
