Guilty

I feel guilty, like I've done something wrong. The uneasy feeling
will not leave the pit of my stomach, the part where the sick is
stored. My night was turbulent, I couldn't get to sleep, i kept
shivering, I kept waking needing water. There was something that wasn't
right.


I open my curtains as the sun rises and the normal optimism
this gives me isn't there. I gaze out across the fields, my hand unable
to grip my coffee cup. I feel guilty, like I've done something
wrong.


Flicking through the channels of my portable TV does not
relax me, i gaze vacantly at the screen, unable to concentrate on any
one thing. I flinch as sirens go down the road, the sound penetrating
my ears. I fear someone coming to the house. I can't stomach the
thought of the telephone ringing. I feel guilty, like I've done
something wrong.


As the day goes on the feeling does not go. It is the least
constructive day of my life. I am sick three times, haven't eaten
anything, haven't had anything to drink. The taste won't go
away.


And then I remember why.


Last night I kicked the shit out of a policeman.