I caught myself
This week,
Daggers at the ready.

"What had happened, was..."

My head had cleared up
For a minute and
"Good guy" me,
The honest one,
The kid,

"We have to get
Some help.
Talk to someone."

How many times
Has he
Said that

"Sure," I said,
"Who should we find?
I know, let's
Talk to the priest again,
That worked out so well
Last time,
Or one of the other
So many..."

A lot of us in here,
We hate that guy,
That me.
He's always getting us
Into trouble
With his fucking
His belief.
Things are just
So goddam
Simple for him:
Yeah, let's
Talk to
Got it.

He doesn't know,
Doesn't understand,
He forgets, maybe

(And this is just
The beginning
Of what he needs
To know
So don't get
All excited
That I'm telling it
To you

At very least:

Talking leads to

Connection leads to....

See, he's a danger.


Why not take matters
Into my own hands?

If I'm going down
Anyway, might
As well be the one
Who calls the shots
On how it goes down
This time, even just
This one time.

The one way, the
Only way, I've ever
How to be
In control.

If you can't see it,
Can't agree,
Then you really don't see anything,
Can't, wouldn't, don't

"I'm just telling you how it usually goes."

Usually, at this point,
We call him in, that other me,
The Assassin.
Less regrets that the
Rest of us.
He's taken care of
This kind of thing
Before: He always kills
The kid, he never even
Leaves any blood.

Used to be:
Suicidal ideation,
Big messes, sirens
Wailing, hospitals.

Even he was
Stupid, turns out.
No one here's a hero.

He wised up though;
It's done more quietly now:
In fact,
It's done by quieting.
It's sad, I know,
But the rest of us
Are usually
Fine with it:

You have no idea
The trouble
That fucking
Has caused, so
Don't give me
Any shit
About it
At all.

He's good, too, the killer,
Even you'd like him.
He does his thing, then
Shows up the next day at our job
White shirt pressed, brain
Like a wing-tipped shoe,
Polished, shined, ready
To go. Even a smile
Waxed on for good effect.
His performance is stunning.

"But what was I saying though?
Oh yeah..."

This time
Something was different.
I caught myself.

A different me was there too
Showed up out of nowhere:
He's the one who did the catching.
No rescuer, he, quite the opposite:
Just someone who's tired
Of all the killing.

"Wait" he said,
"Let's at least
Hear what the kid
Has to say."
Like a line out of
A movie, or, worse,
Some stupid tv show.

"You and me will
Watch him." he says,
"We'll make damn sure he
Doesn't do anything
Too stupid this time."

"Stupid" and "making
Damn sure" were just
Words he used,
Blending in.

I don't even know why
He cared that much,
To tell you the truth,
Blending in?
He must be really
Fucking tired.

He disarmed the killer, though,
At least momentarily.
The killer, ironically,
Thought he had "finally"
Found someone who understood.

Looks like all of us
Are looking for the same thing.

"So, in any case,"

I don't know how,
But it must have worked,
Because there we all were
Sitting, or standing,
At think we were all standing
At that point, what with all the
Almost killing and everything.

All of us in
The same goddam place
(Head body soul)
Staring at each other.
No one making a move and
No one saying a goddam thing.
But no one was killing each other
Either. An uneasy truce.

"It's been that way since then."

But here's the real killer:
I'm liking it that way.

I guess even I am
Really fucking tired
Of all that killing.

[Didn't really know how to say all this, but wanted to say it.]

Edited by SayItRight (11/16/13 07:07 PM)
I always tried one thing:
To make what happened to me not matter at all.
Turns out, it was supposed to matter.
Who knew?