6:37 am Sirens calling

Its 6:32
am
and i had just taken a midnight overdose
so my head is spinning
a bottle of vodka
and a bag full of speed
twenty three paracetamol
and a half gram of weed
jim morrison, he's making sense
and i wander out on the windowsill
and see
what the bottom of the rock
can create for me.
It's 6:33 am
and i'm spread on the sidewalk below
bones broken
yet i aint dead,
the suicide lust is fed
but it didn't make me feel better
i hear the siren
just as i did before
like the girl in the lagoon
buttered limbs on the concrete
i bled
but the hemorrhage is nothing
compared to the voices crying
inside of my head.
Ambulance journey
sirens screaming again
drawing me to waters dangerous
drugs pounding thoughts
there offers
so generous
so i shot the paramedic
in the back of the head
at 6:34 am
should have searched the contorted body
if im going to die
going to take the whole lot with me
i decree
at 6:35 am
drag this old ass out of the ambulance
on to the only road left open to me
i will still get away with this
the drug fuelled mind keeps on telling me, see
like a hollywood siren
monroe style
against kennedy type assassination
absolved of the crime
the hallucinations will set me free
pull against the rocks on the road
blacking out through the pain
the cops arrive, fully loaded
sirens blaring
guns aiming
and as i point out to them
they fire once
twice
again and again
at 6:36 am
i lead the life that i was supposed to have lead
and at 6:37 am
the doctor on the scene
pronounced me
as dead.

M j Martin