Suicide

Suicide I have lately been contemplating taking my life The question is, how? I live on the seventh floor with a veranda The falling is not bad I shudder by the impact Also, upsetting people. A shotgun in my mouth blowing my brain out Is too ghastly, Ernest Hemingway did it shoot himself Blood and gore all over the place. A 22-calibre pistol should do it, but I dislike Weapons. To take a handful of pills will not do I would Throw up and sweat profoundly. I wish there were an injection that made me Disappear from the face of the earth. No funeral No flowers Few tears Only an enduring question Where the hell did he go?