Pathological Pathology (Still has "Logical" in it)

To crawl inside a gas oven.

An oven with no window.

Like when I come home

Pull the shades

Cover myself with blankets

Pulling them over my head

The friendly dark

The soothing dark

The separation from everything

Eternal solitude

Without worry of misunderstandings, judgments or pressure

Without that feeling of impending doom where everything can go wrong in a flutter of a butterfly's wings

Society just kills you faster

If I am to be killed, it shall be by my own hand, 

Not by something so petty and artificial.

So why not go hide in a gas oven?