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stork daddy
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even at the scene of the crime when his son was murdered, he had that familiar now horrific sense of self-awareness. for within his tears he had a stray thought that reminded him that all other bad things that had befallen him were, in retrospect, the periods he felt most alive and relevant. he'd often have mundane days where he missed those living moments. it was only later, sitting in his son's room for hours, as he did these days, when he felt sadness for his only son. he sat and listened to the well tempered clavier, which he had often put on for his son to calm him before bedtime. now the room was a strange mix of child and adult - Some soccer trophies, a Dali painting, and a stuffed animal - ha. The end result of it hung over every item. Even this sadness was somehow for himself really, sadness that he killed all that was childlike good in himself, and now had literally caused in some way his son's death. He had a strange thought then - if his son had known what his father's role had been in it, it might've brought him some peace - he might have thought he had accomplished what he thought he was accomplishing.
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061031
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