Samsara the Sheep
I had two fucking minutes.
I shot up and thrust myself at the side table drawer- a brush, a postcard, Buddhist teachings- nothing that fit my purpose.
With a bang I threw the bedroom door open like a stag in heat, bare tits dangling wildly, comically slapping this chest like a swollen cow desperate for a milking.
ONE MINUTE & THIRTY SECONDS
Light down the hall led me to the bathroom, the perfect pasture for my deed.
Medicine Cabinet: No drugs, just organic vitamins. Shit.
Cabinet 2: toilet paper, Clorox wipes, empty lotion. Nothing.
Cabinet 3: Bars of unopened soap. Did the bitch have anything?
The shower: A razor. That would do.
The blade stuck to the handle, wary of my intentions. I hadn’t even bought her dinner first!
…She gave in to my advances anyway.
Straining the veins in her wrist, I cut sinews like the pale dream of a butcher.
She came to, bleated and wailed, feet in the air, bloody, tense, and still mercilessly living.