Exercises in Self-Destruction

lately i've been wondering which mile marker it will be that i turn the wheel so i get stuck under an 18 wheeler so it'll crush me
or what barrier i'll run into when i want to end it all because i can't put up with this goddamned stress anymore
or what side of the tunnel i'll be on-- inbound or out-- that i'll ram my car into the concrete going 74.6 miles an hour
because pills and knives don't excite me anymore like they used to

are my parents going to inherit the debt? the debt of the car that i used to kill myself?
i wonder how much my life insurance will pay out?
that's exciting to think about-- the fact that i'm worth more to a number in a cubicle than i am to myself
if i'm in an airport, and you're in a hospital bed, does that mean that suicide by cop is the same as dying alone?

because cops are known to shoot more and more these days
hey! over here! i fucking hate you! i stole a cigar! shoot me in the head 6 times please!
i yell as i brandish the toy gun on the playground
as i am kneeling on the sidewalk in a chokehold

all i want to do is get higher than you'll ever be
and smoke more than you'll ever be known to see
and drink more than my liver allows
and die quicker than someone who is in a permanent state of drowse

pull the fucking plug!
let me go, one last hug!
pull the trigger, i'm the last of 6 in a game of russian roulette!
this is finally my last pirouette!