exit to your left

regret. damn, what a fucking word. it's a feeling that has been injected through my bloodstream, pumped through my heart and fed to my brain. as much as I push the past further down that hard-to-reach top shelf, it gets to the edge and crashes down towards me. six letters that simply express what we all seem to feel on occasion. always regret, and you are purely weak. deny regret, and you are no different. invite regret inside your form of shelter, offer it some tea, allow it to sit, then put a bullet through its head. surely, it'll be back from the dead, but this time you can forget about being polite and simply blow out its zombie brain. as shit covered this life can get, never let "regret" enter any part of that awesome equation. yes, the feeling exists, but now its time to play some duck-hunt. this allows you to fully realize and see what you are against, then somehow you also have the ability to end it all. well, I'm off to hunt some zombies. regret, what a fucking word, indeed.