Death

All of us are dying in fall, or we would rather die as the leaves fall, people in black suits hurry, when death will be so clearly written on their faces when pain and some feelings, probably sad, will play inside. Can you come up with your own death? Not the cause, the measure, the time of the year, just death. How's she? Comes while you sleep or while you watching TV, having sex or while you waiting for love. Maybe love is death, someone once said: "love - kills two and makes one." But we are not naive, we never think that we could die for love, even in dreams, our death is black, cold and full of other negative emotions, why? Why do we want to live cheerfully and die sadly? Why funeral, cemetery, death are a cult of sadness? I want, when the day comes, when I leave all of you, you to remember the things that brought you joy, I want to be JOY. Maybe people will be sad, they are so stupid if they manage to change their masks and fake one emotion after another, why not fake another one? Did I not deserve it? Do you think I will be concerned with your sadness? Definitely not. I won't be here anymore. You will feel death, I will live on. I imagining your morning, waking up in the morning, I hope by getting the news that I'm gone you will lift at least 1 shot, out of respect for me, or even few. Well, that morning, you remember once again the fact that I'm gone, as usual, without saying thank you, or leaving a message just with that stupid smile, I hope that remembering my last wish for good luck, you will understand a little ironically, that I no longer need any luck.  

Say goodbye to me, because today I have come up with how I would like to die. Sitting in the centre of a city and pulling that damn freaking cigarette, I wouldn't want medics to fight for my life, to have people sacrificing money for an extra hour off from my absence, I'd just like to smell London and perish, fast and maybe slow. Not as fast as a cigarette, slower, I would like to see my life running through my eyes, yes, to relive what I was going through. Even if I died tomorrow, there would be many, too many events.
I would like to die alone as a pet who, feeling his helplessness for the benefit of the family, goes into the woods to getaway. I would like to disappear like smoke without being distracted by the wind, some poet said: "oh how I would like to disappear". Poetically to say, like a storm, like an uproar, but I would just like to leave a stamp on each of my dear people, no matter what I am, I was or will be, negative or positive, just a stamp, not sadness that translates into funerals and disappears in time, or joy, like a dying king clown, would I be a good clown? I can make fun of myself, you, your king, my king, what else do I need? 
You like my mask, you like all masks. I can be honest, what kind of honesty do you need? An honest and homey that will pour into your heart, head, or any other vulgar organ and become close. Honest and homey words that are not unnecessarily similar, their meanings are similar, does anyone can be homey without being honest, but unfortunately being honest not always makes you homey, open legs, open legs will never make you homey for money. Buying love is shameful. What about selling it? And to die for? To die for love?