It is good to be gone. For I am a poet, a poet of depth, grace and beauty and I have now taken the final step towards Oneness, I have joined the afterlife. I have created no spawn to mark my passing. How could I bring life into this empty wasteland of a world? I did what I could do. My children are ink blots on paper and binary codings saved onto floppy. I leave behind the naked truth of life's suffering and misery and agony so all of you will no longer be blind to the lives of stifled desperation you all secretly yearn to be freed from. So, I sacrifice myself, with a belly full of Valium and a stucco wall caked with brain, skull, and gun powder, much like Jesus himself on the cross. A martyrdom of truth, my poetry. My life's mission, to bring you all the joy that bitterness has brought me. I only hope my genius is more recognized in the shroud of death than in the purgatory of life. This is my legacy, please don't miss me. Love me through my work. Adieu.

My world is a dark black void of pain and endless suffering where others were born in the warmth of the womb, I was born in a coffin a walking scion of death incarnate, for love has forsaken me love always leaves these cold arms, for my heart was made to be tempered on an anvil of cold iron, to be wrought like a sword and the razor edges of my dented and rusted heart proved far to sharp for these delicate things who hoped to love a man ruled by the burden of all the world's suffering. Anon! Anon! Life is but a walking shadow a poor player who struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard never more by a raven. Love, love, everywhere and not a pair of lips to kiss Goodbye, cruel, cruel Earth.

Percival McPhail
1963-1984

"He was more"