My Own Name...

I can't get up.

I'm laying stomach down in the middle of a wooded narrow dirt road.

My eyes feel bruised and filthy.

They almost tear open like zip-lock bags.

Looking up I see the night sky.

The freezing rain is falling in a wavy curtain pattern.

I'm shivering uncontrollably or maybe it's shock.

Everything hurts.

I feel a tremendous pressure on top of me forcing my breaths to come in squeezed wheezes.

I bite down and feel a stone grit crunch.

My teeth slide to the side.

Slowly standing I realize there is nothing on top of me but rather that I very obviously have several broken ribs.

Lifting my blood soaked t-shirt it comes as a surprise to see I've been shot low and on my right side.

I have no idea how this happened...

I stagger.

Putting my hands in my jacket pockets I realize two things.

My left hand is badly broken.

My right jacket pocket is full of guitar picks that have "Shredder" printed on them...

I don't know who I am.

I turn too quickly.

My head swims.

Behind me is a body.

A dude with no shirt laying face up in the rain.

He looks beaten to death.

A smashed guitar is next to him.

He's covered in idiotic nazi tattoos...

For some reason I know I did this and that I don't care.

He's a mindless inbred neo-nazi piece of trash...

Well at least I was on the right side of this...