February 8, 2014

Somewhere around October of 1999, according to 'The Wayback Machine,' the suicide note on this page was replaced with a poem called 'Perfection'.

I have reverted back to the suicide note. Originally, the suicide note ended with "God dirt, god dirt, god dirt..", so that it read, "You can have me, please, you can have all of me!! God dirt, god dirt, god dirt.." But that didn't last long because I thought it sounded stupid. The phrase "God dirt" still exists in another of my poems somewhere. I'll locate it one day, god-willing.

This was 'Perfection' (or maybe not):

To never see it snow, or ever feel the rain again.
To never be in love, or having to explain again.
To not have to cover my face so you won't see my pain --
that would be perfection.

There was a guest on this site and close friend of mine a long time ago and her name was Jessica. She told me that never being in love was not an element of perfection. I think maybe we were both right, but she was right even moreso. I recently recanted while I was driving down a lonely, desolate road, missing the feeling of having someone in my life to love, and whilst thinking on that my vehicle slid out of control on a patch of ice. The third rule was then abruptly, in a moment of adrenalin-fueled amusement, switched to,

"Just keep your damned eyes on the road."

That kind of ruined the poem though, so I'm going with the suicide note. You were right, Jessica. No Love = Hell. Truly.