Another one

The dangers of seeing too late. I spent years looking out for them. Always alert. I didn't sleep for a long time in between. My gun was that part of my hand. And then on a busy, rainy street they smashed my window with the butt of a pistol and shot me through the head. The bullet entered from the left, and maybe spent some time inside my head. It fucked me bad. All those hours I had spent staring at the endless sea rang inside my head. All the time wasted. And then there was blood in my eyes, in my ears, in my mouth. There were waves of blood, deep red. My conscience bore that red, like a deep scar. If I'd died I would have grieved. Now I sit paralyzed in this dry armchair in this sterile ward.

The whole point is, I can't die right now. Its just not the time. I think regret is this exceptionally beautiful thing that haunts you like an enraged lover. Very very sexy. To throw it away would be a crime.

I am still very young. Though I have killed many, stolen some, I have never asked for their forgiveness. I am not sorry. That's not good or bad. Its just fucking reality. I love the rain, I have fallen in innocent love, I have helped a friend, and I have calmly fucked up many lives. God won't touch me. I am also a genius. A genius with compassion and a goddamned fucking pervert. If I said "contradiction" it would be hackneyed and old fashioned. So I say original.

I, am holding storm within me. Storm when I see the nurse bending before me, and storm when I see injustice. Storm when I feel pain, and storm when I am alone. I feel like a storm. I sit paralyzed and feel like a bloody storm. Can you believe that? Can you believe that?

I am visualizing the big bang.