rogziel

There is a moment between one day and the next where time seems to collide and exhaustion takes over. A waking dream that I seem incapable of mastering. A lucid moment reflected against my monitor screen.

The ocean swells in the tumult of the storm, its fury relentless. In the calm, the stillness of the water reflects the cold grey of the pistol pressed deep in my jacket pocket. Hands sweating against steel and a fever in my blood, the smell of oil draws me closer to the edge as the barrel slips past my teeth.

Bitter and cold there is no thought, no hesitation, only the falsh of gunpowder... then darkness. On the waves once more, but this time gently floating out to sea...