Thanks A Lot, Maynard...

"Remember I'll always love you,

If I blow your fucking throat away -

It will end no other way,

It will end no other way."

~Tool

The whole weekend my friend stayed I had no nightmares - but I did the night before he arrived. I just decided to write about it now, because it still sticks in my mind...

It started with no real beginning. A pistol fell from my hand, clattered on the ground, and I collapsed onto pavement. Perhaps a parkinglot of some sort. And I'm laying on my side for the most part, my face on the ground. Tiny bits of gravel pressing into my cheek. And I cough...
When I do, blood splashes out with bits of my throat and lung tissue - and it's all eye-level. It doesn't hurt, but you just know this is all wrong. It seemed like the right thing to do at the moment tho. I don't know if someone convinced me to, or I just thought it was something I should do at the time. You know, pull the trigger...
But anyhow, some guy's standing above me and talking to me. It was something casual, some sort of conversation devoid of any concern or surprise at my situation. And I cough... Blood and tissue starting to pool infront of my face...
I don't cry, and I'm not all that alarmed - altho I was feeling rather sleepy and spent. I didn't feel much like getting up. But as casually as his monologue had been going, he told me to get up. I don't know who "he" is, but he seemed to be some sort of person who I thought to have some sort of authority. Or maybe someone who I obeyed often... And I coughed and closed my eyes a moment after staring at pieces of my insides swirl in my crimson...
He waited a few moments, watching me, and told me to get up again. That I needed to go to the doctor...
Like being woke from a deep sleep, I reluctantly set my palms upon the ground and heaved myself up... Coughing... And I stood up, wiping my mouth on my wrist - holding my throat with my other hand...
And I walked away, continuously swallowing so as not to choke on myself, trying my best to breath deep and even.