Counting On You

Comes the day
I live past
my last possibility,

hang me out
if I have not hanged myself
through either disability
or cowardice.  

I don’t care
if you help me by stoning
or stabbing,
impressment or suffocation.  

Help me get over
if I’ve gotten
so far along the path
that there’s no other 
and no return trip, and if
I’m past choice.  

Line me up
and let me have
some last quick gift
of travel home on my own terms.

Can you feel how close we are
to such times?
Can you feel how close I am
to counting on you for this?