I had a dream last night,
About a girl I dated for a very short period,
Around five years back.
Maybe it can even be considered a minor nightmare.

Her looks have matured since then
(both in the dream and in reality),
And we were in a bathroom (with clothes on, of course).
I can't remember what the conversation started with,
But the next thing I know,
Was that she was saying I was OLD.
She kept repeating the same lines,
Even when I grabbed her by the shoulders,
And told her to shut t.f. up.
In the end I say the killer line I knew she hates hearing.
I said she is now FAT.
Coupled with some other nasty things (but sometimes true) things.

I woke up feeling unwell...
And OLD.

Gosh.

I walked into the door after a long day at work.
After I took off my shoes,
I walked back towards the door to close it,
And I felt something soft at the edge of my little toe.
That bending part of the little toe.
I jerked my foot away immediately,
And the only thought in my head was "FUCK....".

When I looked down,
I saw what I had imagined,
And hated to see,
Only much worse.

A jumping bit of flesh.
Fresh blood smeared on the floor.
A lizard with its belly up.
Something red was coming out from the seared belly.

It was really disturbing,
And I still can't get the image out of my head now,
Which is why I am attempting to get over it by typing it out.

I am afraid of lizards,
But I never wanted one dead.
As tail twitched and hopped vigorously,
Making me feel nervous and guilty,
The only thing I could do was to try not to watch.
I checked the soles of my shoes,
And there was a small blood stain on the left side,
Still damp and fresh.
I cleaned it immediately,
As if it could make me feel better.

Peeking at the tail with the corner of my eye,
It seemed rather still.
The cleaning up part has to come at some point.
When I moved towards the dead lizard and tail,
The tail started moving again!
At that moment I realised that the lizard was still alive,
And its mouth was opening and closing,
As if it was gasping.
I wish I had the courage to give it a swift death,
But all I could do was to back away to wait.

I went to the freezer and took a shot of vodka,
Before gathering some cardboard to aid in my cleaning act later.
About fifteen minutes later,
I went up close again to the crime scene,
And neither tail nor owner was moving anymore.
With 2 pieces of cardboard I slowly picked up the tail,
Followed by the dead lizard,
Trying to breathe as little as possible,
And to keep a steady hand while breathing,
Fearing any movement might bring it back to life.
I managed to clean off the blood on the floor too.

I dumped everything into the bin,
And threw the bag down the chute.
I am sure my mother will be horrified when I tell her this tale.

From observations of the injured lizard,
I figured that it must have been hiding near the door frame,
And the opening action must have seared its stomach.
I feel like a murderer,
Even though it wasn't completely my fault.
But for now,
I need to get the disturbing image of the lizard out of my head first.

How do murderers or killers ever get over their sin?