2:43am: Monday

"2:43AM: MONDAY" there’s nothing to see here. move it along. last night I cried but no one heard it. I walked into my living room, opened my record player and played Verdi. I was considering suicide. I played it as loud as I could but I could still hear myself die. that’s the thing about suicide: it only matters if someone cares. but no one cares. my woman is gone and everything is razor blades floating in the sky. ”you’re too skinny,” she said, “when we get back on our regular routine, I’m gonna fatten you up.” suicide and silence start with an “s”. as I walk on dead leaves under the sun and wait for lady death, my woman is happiest without me. in suicide, there is silence. she has asked me to stop talking. I still might be able to make her the happiest woman on earth. By: Chicano Eddie