Giovedì, 20 Maggio, 2004 | Posted by Marie Sven Gerkin at 12:57

i wake often these days. i wake up often in the middle of the night. or it could be the middle of the day. i don't know any more. i just wake up in a sweat. my clothes are drenched. the sweat is dripping off my brow. i sometimes wake screaming. i can see it. i always see it. there it is slowly coming out of the darkness. there is a glint of moonlight that makes it seem almost inviting. just for a moment. you almost want to touch it. to caress it.

then it fires with an explosion and releases all its evil with a noise that's frightening. it still frightens me. i can still hear it. exploding in my ears. the sound smashing into my brain. the reverberations lasted for what seemed like hours. in fact i can still hear them. they may last a lifetime.

it was Jesus's gun. a small, chromed piece of metal that i saw fire in someone's hand. i don't know whose hand it was. i just remember there were screams. female screams. among them were thumps of something hitting lumps of meat. i remember nothing else. i'm scared to remember anything else. and then the gun. it comes out slowly. it comes out into the moonlight. it makes itself heard. demanding to be heard. unmistakable. loud. agressive. violent.

i remember something jesus would always sing. the words were something about:

Happiness is a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun, momma
When I hold you in my arms
And I feel my finger on your trigger
I know nobody can do me no harm
Because happiness is a warm gun, momma
Happiness is a warm gun

i don't want to remember any more.