rational animal

I am a rational animal but I am still an animal. I just trashed my MO, my modus of operandi, my reason for living, now how rational is that?

I walked around for hours looking for the perfect place, a private setting to deposit my lover, my dead lover, the muse of a lifetime.

I was scared and frighten, I looked for a hiding place where I could unload her remains; in an ally way in sleepy Soho, or maybe behind Canal St.

A dumpster.

I when back to checking on her repeatedly, over and over and over, dead bones and all.

Walking around Soho, East Village, eventually ending up at a coffee shop in the Bowery, lamenting what I have done. I’ve freed myself by killing my lover, my modus of operandi, my means of production.