Death

Now that i have your attention, allow me to entertain you with creative writting and a break from all the politics. Enjoy
death

I had a knife and I stabbed this bloke right between his two lower ribs, then I dragged the knife up, through the bone of his sternum, then through his collarbone, then actually up his neck, then somehow up through his jawbone, then right around his mouth – under his nose – then back down through his jaw and down the other side of his neck. Then I pulled the knife out and stabbed him repeatedly and rapidly, about ten times, in his windpipe.
And that’s when I woke up.
The nightmare was so horrible that it actually made me get out of bed and go and sit in the lounge. It was one of those ones that stay with you fairly vividly for about twenty minutes before gradually dissolving away back into the dreamtime.
It’s obvious now that the bloke was Tim-tom, and that the knife was the helicopter, but the thing that really disturbs me about the dream was the sheer pleasure I felt during the act.
Pleasure, adrenalin and hatred.
I’m going to kill Tim-tom, yes.
But I actually WANT to kill him.
I’m obviously feeling guilty about that little distinction somewhere deep down.
Oh well, fuck it. He started it.