• when it is my turn to go
    i want to be walking the train tracks in the pouring rain
    out of my mind on something, anything
    cursing and caressing the world
    just one foot after another
    until nature takes hold

    when it is my turn to go
    i want to be alone
    no one to see this momentary weakness
    just me and the ghosts of old trains
    reminding me that there is somewhere else
    a handle of whiskey
    drinking myself numb to reality
    finally understanding the almighty irony of it all
    everything beautiful, nothing hurt
    to strive without action
    realization dawning a little too late
    laughing and swearing at the world
    how trivial it all becomes at the end
    content in my intoxication
    i will go
    sipping and staggering into the darkness