Poem: To Die

Twiddling my thumbs at the midsection of noonday, I gave up on life
and all that it promised: green edible leaves, the cornucopia, fresh water.
I didn’t know who I was anymore after relinquishing control
so I decided to just walk away from everything in my mind
I couldn’t quite comprehend the sensation in my fingertips, the sweat
rolling down my skin, traversing through the canyons of raised
hair follicles. I know I am not that good a person but I never
expected to see such a broken figuration, my guts spilling out.
My brain. I had a hernia once, it almost ruptured my genitals
when my large intestine fell into a place that it shouldn’t have.
I look back. I could have died. My brain is also empty. It echoes
with the silence that nothing mattered if I wasn’t rushed to the hospital
or if I didn’t live up to this gift of life, this great surprise.
I look at the potted plant on my counter. It is a money plant
dropping down like all crawlers do. It is the ultimate household plant
Money plants do not require much watering or sunlight. I wonder why it tries so hard.
My phone buzzes. I read everything but there was nothing of note or
nothing to note. No duty, no responsibilities save the ones I make up
for myself in my head, these foreigners. To God, family and country. Never did I
ever feel so selfish than at the dark noon of midday when in the middle
of my siesta that I decided to drop the ball. To die like everything mattered
and accepting that I couldn’t lift even a finger to die.

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