The Holy Bible, the gun, the vodka

Fuck it, fuck it fuck it!!! FUCK IT!! Moving too fast, faster than the rest, the moment doesn't fit, it never does. The wheels just……… he had no control over anything. Their faces joined almost at the tip of their eyes, unsuspecting intent. Her words just a whisper, his words get in his way. He was her, she was him, and they were them. All they prayed for was a healthier today than yesterday, a safe place to sleep at night, enough money in their pocket so they are not hungry and a feeling that they matter to someone. The Holy Bible, the gun, the vodka. Never should have picked the phone but he did, not that he cares, or anyone else, especially them. The heart and the brain are never supposed to agree on anything.

The Holy Bible, the gun, the vodka. Head trauma, depression, awesomeness was what he felt. Too many days just disappeared too many times in a year, minute after minute and nobody even notices that she smiles different when he’s around. She loved him but she was not his to keep.  Eternity, things go on forever, what does that even mean? Things were moving too slow, slower, clearer, recollection, all the things that matter in one frame. The picture, soul in a dungeon, the picture is a little hazy, there is no picture. Catching grenades, trains, head on a blade, who the fuck loves that much? Who knows the difference between wrong and right any more?

He needed it to be still, still enough to listen to the humming of the cosmos. It’s loud; he can’t listen to himself, to God. He needs to talk to God and explain himself, or rather his actions. How come we rejoice at a birth and grieve at a funeral? It’s probably because we are not the person involved. He was not feeling guilty; he didn’t understand why, correction, what he felt. We are human, sinners, sin is part of us. At this point, they didn’t remember whose idea it was in the first place, it was wrong, but they didn’t care that she was someone else’s woman. They took the risk, hoped and prayed there was an afterlife; the only place they didn’t need to sneak around was in another life.

The Holy Bible, the gun, the vodka. She still won’t hear him; she lied there and smiled, not quite the same way. She was waiting for him in another life. He loaded the gun. Let’s rewrite the book.