Wish

I remember the woman who would look both ways
before she crossed the road, with animated scenes
of her own death being played in her perepheral vision

I wish i had those visions, of gory death, crushed
by a moving bus, or through derailment of a train,
add a bit of blood, or a lot of it, oozing from my flesh

I wish i could see, me cutting up myself to pieces,
driving nails through my bones, with a nice steel hammer,
that i could listen to my last hoarse breaths of life, in idle moments

I could use them over all these crazy images, that i
conjure from thin fucking nothings, which then haunt me
for minutes, hours and days, until a new one takes its place