February 23, 2007
I did it and I didnít mean to do it but it is done. I killed him. It was in a dream but it was a visceral dream. He was arguing, pushing his finger into my sternum and telling me he wasnít going to accept what I had said. His breath hot and his hair oily and me glaring back at him, standing inches away, my fingers curled for striking and plunging direct into his gut. His eyes wide, he gasped and clung at my wrist as my fingers twisted inside him, hot and wet. He twitched, slumped and cried.