Darkly Dreaming...Prazak?

Blood on my hands seems like my lover's lipstick stain, in moonlight.



The light from the night throws shadows across my face as I see myself standing next to the 12th story window, searching the sky for nothing. Like a fabled out-of-body experience, I watch, a third party, as my body stands stock still, hands dripping in cooling, sticky life liquid. The knife, a butcher's blade, lies next to the bed behind me, untouched and innocent. No incriminating fingerprints or DNA to be found there. I'm afraid her death would have been much more humanitarian that way. What has come over me? As with tootsie-pops, the world may never know. A genetic mutation...a repressed memory...split-personality disorder...I have inclination to believe that none of these excuses are satisfactory for the thing I have just done. I guess I'm simply...wrong. God has turned His face from mine...if He's there at all.



No. If God existed, He wouldn't allow monsters like me.



I watch as my body turns, an expression on my face unreadable even to me. In the mirror across the room I search my own eyes for any emotion but all I see is emptiness...quizzical confusion...shock. A glimmer there...could it be mirth?



On the bed there is a pool of blood. Slightly left-center of said pool of blood is the most beautiful lady you've ever seen. Ebony and ivory, that's her, with lips like blood in the snow. A modern-day Snow White, come to bring me to life. What a blessing she has been. What a curse.



Our long summer nights had always been full of the kind of furious passion and severe happiness that teenagers feel when they sneak out together for the first time to go skinny dipping and drink wine coolers. Little rebels. Snow White and I were like them, all summer, and all winter, for two years.



You're probably expecting me to tell you about some sordid affair. Some gruesome chain of soap-opera script events that led to me shoving my fists down my girlfriend's throat and murdering her in jealous rage. Well, if that's what you want, I'm sorry to disappoint you. She didn't do anything wrong. Well, nothing to warrant such...animalistic behavior from me. No, I'm afraid that it happened for no reason. The fist-down-the-throat thing, I mean. Such beauty...what a waste. And the truth of it is, I'll miss her. Honestly though, it's better if I fly solo from here on out. I'm a monster, after all.



So, with a broken heart so heavy it makes me smile, I remove the gloves and toss them into the wastepaper basket. Yes, I wore gloves. I'm a meticulous monster.



Free at last...I feel like myself. Sleep tight, Snow White. Prince Charming has a date with Mexico