Third Option c.2001

The reason to be, a Dane once pondered, 
Calendar reads February. Wonder 
Ceases never to amaze me, sitting 
Knowing there is a love I’ll be getting 
At a time when at once it reads, day twelve 
Month of Never. Still I endure, and delve 
Into the workings of a cold black heart. 
What made it beat again? What made it start? 
Believing, when suspect was my ally, 
Paranoia my friend in arms, belies 
Facts and figures and actions accounted, 
In the months as they have gone. Discounted 
Now and finding little merit passing 
When minuses add up, as amassing 
Pluses show diminutive progress. Gains 
Encircle profit and choke out the pains 
Taking me down to a final question. 
One I must answer without suggestion. 
Whispered, audible and still, quite lowly, 
Do you want to die? Yes, very slowly. . . .