Some early-morning clarity served up in cut-crystal,
A penny drops,'clink-chink!!' echoing against the exhausting eternity of consciousness,
That maybe when the shot finds its mark, when the sleeping pill overdose takes its course,
when the footstool slips away from under feet, when the pavement rushes at the incoming skull,
when the bathwater turns crimson red, when the lungs have surrendered to asphyxiation by gas,
It is not this life that is traded for death, but the weight of all thoughts, all fears, all dreams, all hopes,
The accumulation of this emotional excess,  finally slides out of the once-throbbing chest...