the_art_of_dying
palm
to
wither
away
to
become
lost
in
one's
mind
to
know
nothing
,
and
accept
it
to
stagnate
once
you
can
no
longer
tell
fortune
from
happenstance
,
memory
from
falsehood
...
once
you've
forgotten
what
isn't
...
and
combined
it
with
what
was
...
because
I
talk
to
you
in
my
sleep
.
and
write
to
you
when
dreaming
.
because
I
whisper
to
you
and
hope
that
the
winds
will
lightly
press
the
words
into
your
palms
and
speak
to
your
heart
...
where
has
the
innocence
gone
?
you
have
created
the
art
.
of
killing
oneself
.
i
stalk
.
your
words
.
your
soul
.
i
lose
.
my
heart
.
what's
left
of
it
...
what's
left
of
this
?
talking
to
no
one
and
everyone
inbetween
.
fighting
to
keep
a
pulse
.
beat
.
kerthump.
line
draws
red
.
and
it
has
all
become
the
art
of
dying
.
050221
...
oblivion
watching
dying
withering
this
look
on
my
face
is
a
mixture
of
horror
and
fascination
,
as
a
self
mutilation..and
rebirth
..is witnessed
let
us
engage
in
the
proverbial
hari-kari........
and
I
know
that
you'll
be
waiting
with
the
axe
to
end
it
all
when
my
hand
falters..and
my
honor
is
at
stake.
my
seppuku
is
your
glory
your
final
chapter
and
I
do
not
grant
even
that
to
you
050303
...
unhinged
'
i
do
it
well
i
do
it
so
it
hurts
like
hell'
or
something
like
that
plath
sylvia_plath
sylviaplath
050304
...
psa
Better
to
live
my
death
than
to
die
my
life
050308
