a suicide note

 
I sat out front
aside my dog, a runt,
while watchin’ Phoebus set,
with eve’nin’s pink-hued sky
aflarin’ sun’s aigrette,
 
while chewin’ uncooked,
postprime sausage
and playin’ mouth roulette
 
with putrid pork on rye …
 
although I felt at risk,
I unlaxed a bit,
feelin’ A-OK
and able to just sit,
knowin’ that today
 
would be the day
that from my flesh-and-blood
abominations
 
I would much likely die …
 
from here thenceforward
I can leave those nudnick
obligations
 
yet undone quite fitly lie …
 
as well to rest this weary head
past the time I’m dead
 
and let old bygones be by.
 
(ed. comment: the feckless
maker of the above
(poor fool, may he r.i.p.)
at the point of penning
his note had not anticipated
the agony of his final slide
to his end occasioned
by food poisoning—all in all,
I think many would agree,
a most unpleasant way to go.)