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Untitled 05 | 09.21.2014.

I was inspired by Kendrick Lamar's untitled unmastered EP, and this is what came from it. Enjoy.

He sat on top of the low hill with his sawed off shotgun tucked between his thighs. The midnight shade of his life roughened skin blended almost seamlessly with the moonless, midnight sky, eyes shining like black diamonds in anticipation of what's to come.

He lay in wait with frayed patience for 45 minutes before a light in the window of the home he was seated across flickered on and a living room came into view. His target dropped his briefcase to the carpeted floor with a muffled thunk before sinking onto the couch. His head sagged backwards across the back of the couch at a seemingly uncomfortable angle.

The steady rise and fall of the overworked man's chest was imperceptible to the average eye at the distance he was placed, but not to Luke. His trained gaze saw every ministration with fine detail, and he knew his time was finally here.

Without a sound, he rose from his position on the ground and grabbed the butt of the gun, flipping it so the muzzle dragged across the dewy grass behind him. He would've thanked all things divine that the sliding door remained unlocked even in the wee hours of the morning, but he was certain divinity wouldn't agree with his less-than-noble intentions.

His heartbeat seemed to drum painfully loud in his ears as he padded closer to the man's sleeping form as it was the only thing he could hear. Bloodlust courses through his veins causing a sheen on cold sweat to prickle his forehead and his vision to become hazy around the edges.

Still, he pushed forward until he came face to face with the sleeping man.

Weeks of ardent planning and countless midnights seated vigilantly on that same hill boiled down to this very moment. So he savored it. He took precious minutes to take in the sleeping man's face.

The shadows etched under his eyes from exhaustion.

Each line and crinkle that carved their way into his skin.

His strong brow, furrowed slightly even in sleep.

If he looked hard enough, he could see the youth that had been savagely stomped away by years and years of hard work with no time to care for self.

Even scarier, he could see himself. In the prominence of his jaw and broadness of his nose. In the deep, deep richness of his skin. Skin that held the stories of several lifetimes. But in the blink of an eye that would be no more.

They would both be no more.

Before he realized his actions, the muzzle of the gun had been lifted and was aimed squarely between the sleeping man's eyes. His index finger came in contact with the smooth coldness of the metal trigger.

And he squeezed.

In the instant that the deafening, angry roar of what sounded like far off thunder ripped through the silence of the neighborhood, his vision became reality.

The man was no more.

•••

Luke woke with a start, hitting his knee against the steering wheel of his all black '67 Chevy Impala.

He groaned rubbing his eyes so that everything came into focus. The quaint, one story home was still pitch black inside. Had succumbing to his fatigue caused him to miss his opportunity?

His unspoken question had been answered brief minutes later when light spread through the living room.

A devious smirk inched its way across his face as he relaxed in his seat and watched the scene play before him.

The form of a man in a well-tailored suit exhaustedly carried himself across the room, losing his briefcase and jacket before plopping onto the sofa nearest the window.

The man was already halfway to unconsciousness when he heard the unmistakable padding of little feet scampering across the floor. A little body found its way onto his lap and he felt the lightest of kisses against the rough skin of his cheek before she said his name.

"Hi, daddy."

He had no strength to ask her what she was doing up at such a late hour, so he simply told his princess hello and cuddled her closer to his chest.

It was that quickly how all of Luke's plans shattered like broken glass into a million pieces right before his eyes.

He assaulted the wheel of his car with blow after blow after blow until his knuckles were raw. Biting through the pain, he cut the engine on and sped off into the darkness.