Stranger, Stranger Pull the Trigger

He always had stars in his eyes.

That is to say that he always seemed light years away.

All I wanted was to know him.

I yearned to get under his skin, inside his mind.

But it seemed even when I laid next to him I was always an arm's length away.

I was short-sighted by "love."

He only ever allowed himself to be a stranger to me.

Yet I was enamoured by his every move, his every word.

He was a prophet and I was his disciple.

We had become a cult fit for two.

He was Manson and I was the entire family.

Every statement he spewed I took as fact.

Every opinion, every stance he took I seized as law.

Every suggestion he advised I accepted as commandments.

He sat across from me tossing his father's gun from hand to hand.

Our knees were touching.

He looked at me with those starry eyes.

He began to speak, his speech was barely audible.

"We spend all this believing that we are different, but in reality we are all the same. We all bleed the same. It doesn't matter if you bomb a fucking hospital or dedicate your life to the needy. We all bleed. We all fucking die. We believe in steeples and books, all so that we will be saved. But guess what! There is no fucking point! No one will ever save you."

He had never spoken this much to me.

I noticed his shirt was soaked in blood.

He aimed his father's gun at me.

"Do you love me?" He said.

I leaned forward until my forehead kissed the muzzle.

I looked into his eyes, but he appeared to be looking past me.

I looked past him and saw shattered pictures of a father gone.

I heard sirens coming from outside.

I opened my mouth to speak.

Before I could make a sound I heard the trigger cock.

I think his eyes resembled black holes more than stars after all.