Seeping

I swing free, hanging from that tree I passed all the time.  I see it with every pass, driving by and imagining it.  My head cocked to the side, body slumped, dangling.  The tree’s limbs squeaking against each other, rubbing each other bare.  I see it all the time.  It’s not like I wish I was dead, I just see the vision - gas leaking into a sealed car sitting in an abandoned garage; the blood pooling and seeping as I pull the blade across my skin, red and beautiful; driving nowhere, slowly lifting my hands off the steering wheel, eyes close, letting the car drift; swallowing them down, feeling them slowly gurgle in my stomach, waiting for the effects to kick in.  But it’s not like I want to die, only to not have to do all this anymore.  Take my life, hold it in the palm of your hand and blow it away, drifting into the air, light as a feather.