Two Dirty Windows

Dreaming about death is a daytime job.

Dreaming about murder, makes my life complete.

I think of every possible way to kill someone. Butchering. Slashing. Slicing and dicing. Shooting. Stabbing. Poisoning. Throwing. Pushing. Electrocuting. Accident. Hanging. Tumbling. Tripping. Breaking. Burning. Crisping. Boiling. Frying. Dead. Dying. DEATH.

It occupies my days and disturbs my nights.

It's all I can ever think about anymore. That, and Mrs. Barnaby's pies.