Reoccurring Dream
Once again, I’m standing in his doorway, looking at what I’ve done.
How can such a barbaric act give me such satisfaction?
I don’t know why it does, but it does. The feeling of dominance.
Closure. Clarity. Anti-conformity.
He won’t stop bleeding, and I won’t stop laughing.
But soon after, the feeling fades.
And I can’t wait to do it again tomorrow night.
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