shorts.

REGRET

Shivering, I stare blankly at the roof. My mind cluttered with thoughts and fragments of a memory. Although my brain is expanding like the vast universe it is clogging up like a used toilet with the shit that is my memory.

My expression, blank. I assume that if I stared at my reflection my face would appear like a blank canvas.

Cold, pale, faceless.

I do not know what was going on with me when it happened.

BANG

It fell collapsing onto the icy surface that was the ivory colored marble floor.

BANG

The ringing of my ears was driving me insane like if the damn high pitch squeal was resounding in the canal for centuries now.

BANG

I released it, freeing it like a black bird. I thought it would soar off into the sky instead the pistol fell onto the floor just like its predecessor. Smacking the floor like a hand on an ass during hard core sex. It bounces off the surface, as if the marble was a bouncy castle and the glock was a child playing.

BANG

Another shot fired, a stream rolls out of my eyes just like the thick blood that runs out his wounds. As I leave a trail of crystalline droplets; he creates a hot bath, a puddle of spewing blood. Instantly I began to run. Tripping over myself attempting to retrieve the gun. As my face hit the floor I felt a surge of cold off the tile. My outer body equalized with my inner body both now cold. Picking myself up along with the weapon I bolted getting away with my action. I am free.

My mind is incarcerated, trapped with the remorse. Each night the fragments of my past become more clear. A twisted fucking puzzle that I do not wish to solve, haunts me. The pieces fitting themselves forcing me to remember. To picture his body there laying in that house.

Buried, just as he wished, always fearing cremation after all he was a religious man. A very strong child of God. He lays in his grave. I lay in one of my own.

With Regret.