Coming down from LSD,

supposedly,

I tell my friend

I’m going to kill myself

and he smiles, thinking me a fool

and it’s true, though not for his reasons.

He thinks it treason, my attitudes

my lassitude,

my apathetic discontent,

my seeming relent,

but he doesn’t understand my embrace.

I have chosen

and having decided

my fate is freed.

There is need no longer

to feed on malcontent.

I am liberated from deliberation,

alive in a land of opportunity,

knowing my death

waits at the end of my hand.

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