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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book “Approaching Front” cc&d (v251) (the Sep./Oct. 2014 Issue) You can also order this 6"x9" issue as a paperback book:

Order this writing in the book One Solitary Word the cc&d July - Dec. 2014 collection book		get the 402 page July - Dec. 2014 cc&d magazine issue collection 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

how the fuck do you write about suicide?

Patrick Fealey

and i’m sure someone who has done it
lacks the volition to talk about it
so what we’re left with is half-assed
reportings of attempts, some more
sincere and closer than others
i have a history of attempts
and i feel pretty disingenuous
with myself for these failures
but finally one day is was clear as autumn, sun out, brisk breeze
i put the .380 on the rock
my life had led to an okay criminal BCI
it was like those scholarships i’d won
or the journalist awards later
they were going to let me buy a pistol
i waited 10 minutes for permission
and a yes and in little more than half an hour the flies would be all over me
i sat with a beer
i didn’t have many thoughts
i wouldn’t pay rent this month
because I’d bought the pistol
i’d picked this rock out of a pine forest
i first saw in the sun on my way fishing
today it was in the sun
but i was aware of the black gun
it might have been a paperclip
that would change everything
and the pine needles
waiting on all the dreams i’d ever had
my world doesn’t have a mouth
i was not depressed
not at all
i was calm, sober
and enabled
persuaded the shop owner’s wife
to sell me the gun in his absence
most suicides occur in an up state
and i couldn’t have felt better
(killing myself improved my mood)
mania was sickness for others
i’d like to call it over-identification with their failures
so naturally one isn’t
thinking about oneself
i had charmed that gun
out of that woman
minutes before, sober as i said
then i grabbed two busch’s
for the journey into the woods
i drank them on my rock
in the sunny pines
after i loaded the pistol in my room
with six rounds – why six i don’t know
i drank a beer and felt calm and clear
i drank another and i didn’t want to blow my brains out
i wanted to drink more beer
i walked out of those woods
alive
still here
aliens all
with this crushing
obligation
between our ears
to live with our failures
and i saw
the dandelions
were dancing
as they had been

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