PONDERING DEATH

I hate my life, I hate my life,
I wish that I would die.
There are so many ways in which
I could boil, bake, or fry.

I could be patriotic and
Be smothered by our flag,
Or die from asphyxiation brought by
Soldering or gag.

Accidents from parachute,
Mummified alive.
Or finding a nice acid lake,
And taking a high-dive.

I could get eaten by a bear,
A lion - just a bite.
Or loudly try to make my way
Through the Bronx late at night.

Maybe there's a fly-trap, big...
Enough to swallow me?
A scalpel left inside my heart,
In open surgery?

Tried-and-true, hanging's the best,
All I need is a noose.
Maybe disembowled by
A telepathic goose!

Or I could go the classy way,
With just an ounce of lead.
Burn me to a crisp or how 'bout
Microwave my head!

Sports are dangerous to play,
Like tennis and baseball.
A sharp whack on the head is all
You need for death to call.

Irony is great but needs
So much consideration.
Like, I could choke and die at a
CPR presentation.

Quebec lit has no point but
To cruelly torture me.
Because of its French nature, I think
Death au Fleur de Lys!

Poison's a real winner - you know,
It will rarely fail
So many ways - like turpentine,
Or anthrax in the mail.

Drowning's a sure way to go,
There's no ifs ands or buts.
Others - not so much, like if
I die from paper cuts

A plane crash could plain kill me,
Smashing in a large mountain.
I'd die in the third world if
I drank from a fountain.

I might be on a spaceship and
Explode in outer space.
Or I could pay a visit to
A tribe that skins your face.

I could well die from apathy,
Double-you tee eff.
Or from hearing poems written
By Almighty Steph.

In fact, if I write any more,
I'll surely kick the bucket...
Wonder if I could stone myself or -
ARGH!  Forget it, fuck it!