~`_ The Spirit of the Eagle speaks into the soul _'~

I grew up around guns. My father had an ivory handled shot gun he named Maude. She lived in his closet. I knew right where to get to her if I wanted to do anything with her. The shells...well those were elsewhere. I never knew where he hid them. He was always moving their location. There was a pistol in the house, too. I wasn't tall enough to get to it, though. I thought about getting to it once. Just once. The shells for that were inside the box with the gun.

I fell in love with the cold steel of guns. My love for them was only steeled by the way they were used in the newest version of Romeo + Juliet with Leo DiCaprio. I used to fondle them and think of what I could do with these quick resolution machines. I once wrote a rythym poem about a nickel plated nine. I have always been infatuated with songs that speak of the beauty of guns. Me and my girlfriend by TuPac was one such song.

What has me thinking on such brutal weapons this evening? The current state of my mind...I am full of violence this night. Full to the very brim. I can't talk about it enough to get it out of my head or my heart. I want to shake the rafters with my anger. I can't even articulate the height of my rage. All I want to do is scream and throttle someone. Break things. Go entirely insane...but I am not allowed and therefore I sit here and seethe. Either way, it's not good