Execution

The plan
was laid out
in a manner
of seconds.

There was no loopholes,
no escape.
It was perfect
through and through.

The perfect plot
for a murder.

I was going to kill him.
My hallucinatory mind
was set on it.

He was a dead man
trying
to mock the living.

His words,
his actions,
his presence
managed to irritate me
this much.

I felt,
in between
the toilet growing
and my skin melting,
the overwhelming urge
to strangle the life out of him
and bury him
in the woods.

He had to suffer.

He had to die.

I was his
executioner.