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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=345438" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Suicide Note</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">'You speak to me of narcissism but I reply that it is <br>a matter of my life' - Artaud</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'At this time let me somehow bequeath all the leftovers <br>to my daughters and their daughters' - Anonymous</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Better, <br>despite the worms talking to <br>the mare’s hoof in the field; <br>better, <br>despite the season of young girls <br>dropping their blood; <br>better somehow <br>to drop myself quickly <br>into an old room. <br>Better (someone said) <br>not to be born <br>and far better <br>not to be born twice <br>at thirteen <br>where the boardinghouse, <br>each year a bedroom, <br>caught fire. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dear friend, <br>I will have to sink with hundreds of others <br>on a dumbwaiter into hell. <br>I will be a light thing. <br>I will enter death <br>like someone’s lost optical lens. <br>Life is half enlarged. <br>The fish and owls are fierce today. <br>Life tilts backward and forward. <br>Even the wasps cannot find my eyes. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yes, <br>eyes that were immediate once. <br>Eyes that have been truly awake, <br>eyes that told the whole story— <br>poor dumb animals. <br>Eyes that were pierced, <br>little nail heads, <br>light blue gunshots. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And once with <br>a mouth like a cup, <br>clay colored or blood colored, <br>open like the breakwater <br>for the lost ocean <br>and open like the noose <br>for the first head. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Once upon a time <br>my hunger was for Jesus. <br>O my hunger! My hunger! <br>Before he grew old <br>he rode calmly into Jerusalem <br>in search of death. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">This time <br>I certainly <br>do not ask for understanding <br>and yet I hope everyone else <br>will turn their heads when an unrehearsed fish jumps <br>on the surface of Echo Lake; <br>when moonlight, <br>its bass note turned up loud, <br>hurts some building in Boston, <br>when the truly beautiful lie together. <br>I think of this, surely, <br>and would think of it far longer <br>if I were not… if I were not <br>at that old fire. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I could admit <br>that I am only a coward <br>crying me me me <br>and not mention the little gnats, the moths, <br>forced by circumstance <br>to suck on the electric bulb. <br>But surely you know that everyone has a death, <br>his own death, <br>waiting for him. <br>So I will go now <br>without old age or disease, <br>wildly but accurately, <br>knowing my best route, <br>carried by that toy donkey I rode all these years, <br>never asking, “Where are we going?” <br>We were riding (if I’d only known) <br>to this. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dear friend, <br>please do not think <br>that I visualize guitars playing <br>or my father arching his bone. <br>I do not even expect my mother’s mouth. <br>I know that I have died before— <br>once in November, once in June. <br>How strange to choose June again, <br>so concrete with its green breasts and bellies. <br>Of course guitars will not play! <br>The snakes will certainly not notice. <br>New York City will not mind. <br>At night the bats will beat on the trees, <br>knowing it all, <br>seeing what they sensed all day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Anne+Sexton">Anne Sexton</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=345438" data-title="Suicide Note de Anne Sexton" data-description="'You speak to me of narcissism but I reply that it is 
a matter of my life' - Artaud

'At this time let me somehow bequeath all the leftovers 
to my daughters and their daughters' - Anonymous

Better, 
despite the worms talking to 
the mare’s ho..."></div>
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