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Another Scrapped Suicide Note/Nathan McCool

So much expressed here.

Blood Into Ink

crumpled-paper-1852978__340

Jesus isn’t waiting for me anywhere. I nailed him

to a tree. A long time ago. And hell fires are extinct to me now. I can no more believe 

in them than I can the idea that mercy was

coming for me and just lost its way. 

I write this in a field – Gaia’s emerald hair is

what leaves this paper water damaged.

I am not crying now or even fighting tears,

for once.

If you could see me now you’d know 

that I’m smiling. Like I never have before.

I do not know if we really take anything with us 

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Lee Dunn View All

Lee Dunn has been writing since the age of 18, but found that work got in the way for the ensuing 48 years. In his home town of Toronto, Ontario, Canada, he reveled in his independence at an early age, and spent as much time as he could exploring the city’s Arts scene. He was introduced to poetry and prose by the works of two literary giants, namely J.R.R. Tolkien and J.W. Lennon and thence fell in love with the written word. His work includes poetry, short fiction, and personal essays, and ranges in theme from the surreal to the horrific, nostalgic, and themes on the human condition. He has been published on Spillwords.com, The Dark Poets Club, Journal of Undiscovered Poets, Crepe & Penn Literary magazine, and the Shelburne Free Press.

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