Blood. Shot.

The silence deafening, still, I can sense the noise. The world moves, in tandem with my pulse. I can feel it. I can feel every thud of blood against the thin walls of my vein. I can feel it, the earth moving beneath my feet. I can see the stars too, in their dance with the clouds, ever so coy. And I can see the street lights. Harsh, yet oh so soothing. I stagger to my feet. Aware of every millisecond that it takes me to reach my equilibrium. Aware of the 'swoosh' inside my head. So minutely aware. Of. Every. Single. Thing.
The rush of the wind against my skin. Aware of the movement of every strand of hair. I feel myself becoming one with the elements. Stable as the earth, as ever-moving and restless as the wind. Every cell intense, like the fire. And as tranquil as the puddle in front of me.
The puddle.
I lean forward. Aware of the shift in my centre of gravity. So aware. So intensely aware. The world comes up to meet me, to cushion. The ground reassures me, its there for me, it will cushion my fall.
And I look at the puddle.
I see my eyes.
Blood. Shot.


The silence is deafening. I can hear my life flash past me. I look up, eyes wide, like a deer blinded by the headlights of an oncoming car. And I see the sneer.
The sneer.
It rips into me. The disfigurement alien, yet so natural on that face. A face I could never get enough of.
I can feel myself falling. Feel the weight of every molecule of air bearing down upon me. Pushing me to the ground. I feed my resistance with thoughts to live.
I. Will. Live.
For a minute, I'm defying gravity. Rising again in eternal hope. But as they say, whats written is written. I fall.
Thud.
I can feel the impact in every cell.
I look up.
Through my blurred vision,
I see.
The tears that cloud those eyes.
The face is hazy around the edges.
But I can see the love.
The mask has been lifted.
Or is it one last act of kindness.
Assuaging the fears of a dying man.
I can feel the gaping hole in my chest.
Tearing at every fibre of my being.
Devouring material me.
Liberating. Fatal.
I look past my chin to the bullet.

Blood. Shot.


Its red. Oh so red.
I reach for the glass.
Its cool. So cool against my palm.
My fingers cradling its soft contours,
as one would a baby.
My baby.
Never questioning.
Never answering.
Always listening.
The bile rises in my throat.
I will it down.
It shall not ruin this.
My climax to the perfect movie.
So beautiful.
So truly beautiful.
I raise the glass to the light.
It shines. It sparkles.
I can see through it.
My world red.
I raise my head.
Throw it back in a split-second,
of abandonment.
Of pure happiness.
And I flick my wrist.
The fire trails my throat.
And for a minute,
I'm one with me.
And then it rises.
Uncontrollable.

Blood.
Shot.