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Tell the graphologist, Tell the FBI

If I am ever found dead,
My veins opened in the bath,
Dangling from the rafters,
Drowned,
Or strung up and suffocated
in a rubber mask, stinking of amyl
and a smile on my face – 

Know I was murdered.
Do not believe the note.

Whilst a single friend, relative or lover still lives,
Whatever lost, 
No sickness,
No insurmountable happiness,
No hopelessness 
could bring me to such cruelty –
No tangible ever-present ghost for them,
Always unrequited, and forever unrequitable.

And if I am alone, old or crippled,
Still, do not believe the note,
For there is always beauty
to be found, to strive for,
to bring into the world –

There is always beauty.
There is always adventure.
There is always love.

Do not believe the note.

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