It's easier pushing than pulling.
I know: I've pushed myself over the edge.
I've been pulled up by angels from my limbo ledge.

It's easier talking than listening.
I've talked to the angels I feel but don't see.
They've listened to everything, comforting me.

It's easier going than coming.
Departure is frequent from limbo these days.
I'm coming less now, in so many ways.

It's easier ducking than diving.
I'm fearful of diving. I know I'll just sink.
I duck every day to save having to think.

It's easier sinking than swimming.
Natural flotation ain't natural for me.
I'm dead good at sinking, though. Watch me and see.

It's easier drinking than driving:
The drink is my master once I have got started.
But driving tastes bitter once I have departed.

It's easier cutting than thrusting.
I've so little thrust of the little I knew.
But my scalpels and cleavers will let me cut through.

It's easier living than dying.
Perhaps it's surprising; but laziness rules.
And suicide games are the hobbies of fools.