The grip goes round my chest
It feels like a pressure
Slipping up to my neck
But the grip goes tight.

I can’t escape
But I don’t try
Either.

For 2 months straight
I have drank one ounce more
One shot more.

Two nights ago I blacked out
Smeared shaving cream all over my coat
And vomited on the floor.

I have been death a u up text
Nightly.

I am waiting for his answer.
Tonight he does.
With a tight belt and a tighter grip.

I don’t want to die
But I don’t want life

I let the grip go tighter.
No escape plans
No clawing
I have determined the up is gone
And I am sick of descent.

I awake.
Head throbbing
Oxygen deprived
Alive.

Death let go this time.
I hope he won’t again
At his next midnight visit.