by tremens


I am jealous of some convict who murdered three men and a baby in their sleep last year and earned the death penalty for it. I am envious of his calm, gentle gait as he ascends the abattoir of the court, furiously i try to capture every detail of his blessed, radiant face as he slips a noose over his neck and does this tie for the last time. I should like to be the life draining out of those jerking legs, i should like to be pouring out in his panicky urine, gushing against hope from his sterile prison undergarments, and i should like to have the same last breath escape from out my lips, under the clean, benevolent eye of the law.