It is 3:52 AM
I am sittin in the cold outside.
Itis 43 degrees out here
It has been 2 weeks, 5 days, 9 hours and 32 minutes since my last attempt.
It has been 38 seconds and counting since my last thought of attempting again.
The freeway is 2.38 miles from where I lay.
12 seconds now.
It would take me 15 minutes at the most to run into the street
Given the hour, it would take 20-35 seconds for me to be struck, and 3 minutes to die.
The smile the thought of this has given me shows 12 teeth.
There are at the most 8 people who think of me as capable of such thoughts.
I know 0 of them personally, or in real life.
It has been a week, 4 days, and 12 hours since I have had feeling in the ring finger or pinky of my right hand.
I can read only 30% of what I have written here.
Given my attire (My underwear and a muscle shirt), it would take at the most 1 hour to die of cold.
13 of my toes feel frozen and are turing purple.
I have thought 12 times since typing this what would have happened of the 3 wounds on my body (it's not importan where they are) hadn't healed.
Then I think of the 50
Of them, at the most 5 or 6 would weep
20 would be sad and forget,
The rest probably don't even know who I am.
I have a fever of 102
My sanity is slipping back in, now
And as such, I'll go back inside.
I have shed 14 tears while writing this.
This is 1 of 4 works I wouldn't consider a poem.
But perhaps 1 will care.....