you know what?
**** it, I’m going to be
happy

too often have I thought
that wasn’t for me
that I didn’t deserve it
that I would never deserve it
that all my failures could
never be repaid
and maybe that’s still
true but you know
what?

I don’t care anymore

tonight,
I am going to finish
with this chapter in my
life

I am going to write the final sentence,
think my  closing thoughts,
and close the book
of this life

yes new beginnings are an illusion
but for me,
this is a new beginning
for a new man
in a new world
living a new life

and even though midnight approaches
and I’m not quite done yet,
I finally have the will to complete it all,
to be done, to finish  up,
so that finally,
I may start
things over

again

I stepped outside because the lighting had hit
and the thunder was sounding and the clouds
were still rumbling still electricity

the clouds growled loudly of their power,
screaming madly for any man to challenge them
and then laughing heartily when all men cowered
beneath their roofs and inside their houses

the storm had become something else:

an animal

full of deep power
that rolled around inside it,
bouncing off the walls of its mind
and arcing out its claws,
they could not be stopped
but desired a force
to reckon
with

rain, then, splashed my face

cold drops, starting slowly
but picking up pace and I
quickly returned beneath my
roof and inside my home

the storm thumps off in the distance
looking, I assume, for a force worth
wrestling with for the last time

it doesn’t feel like we're a not together
and that is saddest part of all: that
neither of us wanted this but both of
us needed this and if it hadn’t happened
god knows where we’d be today but
it’s still sad sometimes to think about
her and not feel distant but knowing
that a distance greater than any
physical measurement separates us
now forever

I’m stuck
in a house in the woods
and the murderer circling outside
is friendlier than the few
survivors trapped in here
with me

I write, now, only of
exhaustion and anger

no more is there love
or adventure or
hunger
or thirst
or solutions
or questions
or even suffering

there is only
burn-out
and
further burn-out

I need much more than
a good soaking
this time

if knowing everything
is key

having nothing left to learn
is the fastest way to
enlightenment

the warmth is spreading
through me
and tomorrow I can
wake up
late

there are little things
I want to do
but
time gets in the way
and space gets in the
way and all the way to Armageddon
things oppose us and there’s nothing
we can do to beat them
sometimes

so we go to sleep all night
and the rain makes good dreams
until we wake up in the morning
and begin that march to the end
all over again

so long with sickness
can make a man sick

permanently sick,
sick more with sickness
than the disease itself,
a poison that lives in your blood,
in your veins, which engrains deeper
with each beat of your heart,
each thought in your mind
becomes toxic, sick,
but you become used to it;
so much in pain
you hardly notice it any more
constantly on the edge of a breakdown
fearful of everything, fearful of yourself,
and that, that is the illness
I’ve been living with
for so long now,
I hardly knew what it was like
to live without it

my limbs are light
my mind jittery with the lifted
weight

what now? I wonder

everything,
I suppose.

I have fallen silent
after speaking for so long
and finding the world
only staring back in confusion
and condemnation

back to square one.
back to nothing.
back to no friends
and no one who cares.
back to having no one
to please.
back to having no purpose.
back to being pointless.
back to self-hatred and
anger at the world.
back to quiet music.
back to silence.
back to wanting but
never getting.
back to living alone
with my thoughts for
eternity.
back to the worst sort
of life.
back to all this.

back to the way things
must be, I suppose.

the thing is:
I don’t want to know

things are already bad enough
I don’t really need the good parts
to be soiled forever by truth

I’d rather leave those happy, if,
false

they’re like
photographs carried in my mind
for when the days turn long
or the road turns dark

because sometimes
those happy times are
what you need to get
through it all

so don’t spoil them
don’t make me throw them
away

it may seem funny to you,
why’d I’d never want to know

but I do know
but I can’t be certain
and sometimes tricking yourself
is the only way to make it through
this life

it’s a quiet acceptance,
knowing fully that rest is not
yet for you

though the muscles are clay
the mind sand

you are not angry
that quitting time is not
near

it is after this,

after the struggle against it
has faded
and the desperation
to get out has long
gone,

that you
can continue to
march on

endlessly,
if you so choose.

there are turtles
imitating floating logs
and
shiny fish fluttering
just underneath
the water

there is a family of ducks
sunning on the shore
and
an old pontoon caked
with dirt and
mud

there are trees of many kinds
and
light glimmers
off its wind-blown surface

there are beads of sweet
on my face
and
my heart is
pounding

in a few minutes
I will see one of my friends
and
wave to her and her
dog

there is not much here,
in reality,
but
a whole world
seems to bloom in the
afternoon sun

I have only just now
figured it out why I burst
into tears that night
and I asked you to hold me
as I cried in your arms

it was the first time
I have ever been afraid

I was lost
I saw the reaper
I considered the worst,
made plans to sleep alone in
a place I did not know,
I was terrified of the terror
pumping through my veins
and that is why I came home
needing you so bad

thank you
for knowing that
I needed you

thank you for all that you
did

I hoped one day to repay you,
but I suppose some debts must
go unsettled

taking in a big breath,
puffing up my chest,
growing, swelling,
looming,
deep fire burns
in the pit of my soul,
the flame flares with fresh oxygen,
screaming out the heat,
I stare at the world,
defiant, cocky,
on fire.

air filled with hatred
sanity ****** clean
from the atmosphere,
I drown as the pressure
goes critical

ground now gone,
stability disappeared
into the dark void,
I beg for death in a
world devoid of life

I face my past tomorrow

with a bandana across my eyes
and a cigarette hanging
out of my mouth

I expect the worst
and
deserve the worst
and
I do not care

I am turning my back on what was
and turning forward to what may be

am I arrogant?
perhaps

but I feel it only fitting
to look back at all their angry
faces with knowing
smirk

laughing at them
for hardly expecting it,
and even more so for
not having a clue
why

in that worst moment
I found out just how much
the human body
could bear

how much the
human mind could
understand

and how much
the human soul could
take

a wiser man
would not have been shocked
to witness it not only survive

but thrive

I realize now,
the futility of
forgiveness

we all want a clean slate,
the washing away of our sins,
but in the end:

we are never clean

you can paint over it,
or wear costumes,
or even spend millions
on special procedures

but it’s all just mask

we live with what’ve done,
each day, we must face the
man we used to be, and the
implications that man has
on the one we are now

(and that’s all that matters)

you can mix in new colors,
but never get rid of the old
ones

that is futility of forgiveness:

we cannot wash away the sins,
cannot wipe the slate clean,
the only solitude is forgetting,
and that, in itself, is flawed

(for the moment comes
when all those memories
come flooding back in)

but we carry on

forgetting or forgiving ourselves
(whatever seems better to you)
and trying to make ourselves
presentable

even with the
knowledge of our past
and future mistakes

the plane crashes.
silently.

people scream.
silently.

lives live their last moments.
silently.

drinks spill as panic spreads
eyes go wide, adrenaline pumps
the world falls apart
the shroud of reality
disappears into the void

silently.

everything collapses
the walls close in
faces transform with fear
the humanity drips away
madness consumes

silently.

I reach out to the man next to me
he does not see me, does not hear me,
I cannot hear myself either,
the world grows further away
as the gravity grows heavier
we have entered a different realm

silently.

the ocean nears
the moment closes
the last prayers are prayed
the last embraces made
the eye close, waiting
the mind finally accepts

silently.

the plane pulls up
silently.

people stop screaming
silently.

lives begin living once again.
sound returns.

death came to visit
today

and now he sits,
smoking a cigarette,
in a chair
on the other side
of the room

he did not say
why,
simply barging into
the room
saying

hey
hey man
how ya doing
care for a
smoke?

he didn’t say much
after that so I went
on with things

read a magazine,
paid some bills,
made a sandwich and
ate it

still he sat,
just smoking and
smoking,
occasionally
asking me:

you sure you don’t
want one man?

I was sure
and after the fourth
or fifth time he
asked me if I wanted
to go somewhere


“a little noise will do us
good man”

“this place is quiet as
death”

I realized slowly he didn’t
mean for us to return if we
left

as I write this
he’s still over

smoking and smoking
and smoking

I weigh my options
as the sun sets once
again

we each tried,
and some succeed,
but failure always
surrounded us and
tales of catastrophe
were always on our ears

and for a brief moment,
at the height of it, when
the fear almost made us
stop trying any more

and that was scariest
part of all.

there is a poem
I want
to write

but I am not sure what
it is about,
what it might
say,
or even
how it might
begin

but I know I want to write it
and I know that somehow
the rain will teach how

so I sit, door open
and listening, trying to
hear the message
the world is trying
to say

“a great tragedy has befallen
the young people of
this generation”

“they are so trite,
so supercilious,
so full of greed,
and now, now,
now”

“I miss the old days”

he said,
stressing each
syllable as if a thief
might steal them
away if he did not weigh
them down
enough

“when you were expected
to be something. have some
merit.”

“everybody had to earn
their living.”

“but now all we’ve got shiny,
plastic crap and chrome finished
phones that do everything for
you”

“what ever happened to wood
and steel and agonizing work?”

“I don’t I say”
with a shrug

“of course you don’t”

he said, like the millions
of other xenophobes so
afraid of the future they
aren't even aware of it

“you’re just one of
them”

guilt hides behind the couch
in a big pile
of tin cans and
thrown out
papers

things I hide from
and try to hide
others from

days go by
trying not to look
behind the
couch
and see guilt
grinning knowingly
as the color
leaves my
face

but fate cannot smile
and I run away
angry

somehow thinking
that sedentary creature
can come chasing
after me

but no,
he sits and works
without working

his smugness
is the worst part
of it all

that is why I sit,
back turned from that
which I cannot seem
to face

I wait for the moment
when it goes away
and know, fully, that
that moment is waiting
on me

black mildew dreams
fill to the brim with *****
bacteria, killed with toxic
drugs and herbal cleansers,
the days are numbered
as the days sink
onward

the cockroaches of defeat
come crawling out to chew
on the corpse of innocence

standing alone,
given up,
no doctor left to cure
the ailments of our
era

this we live with
this we die with

the world crashes as the
sound goes silent

somewhere an alien race
takes its first steps towards
sentience

(god help them)

eyes darting one way,
try to catch each other
when no one else
is watching,
smiling when it happens,
giggling inside our
heads,
thinking:

*oh yes
this will be
fun

alone:

only steel,
gunpowder,
and
potential

in human hands:

death

float slowly
downward

under the water
air fades
lungs gasp
panic builds in the
mind

remain calm

coil the fear
in muscular energy
find your footing
wait

for the moment

then jet
away

it is good
to be afraid

there is plenty
to be afraid
of in this
world

but please

please

don’t let it *******
you

don’t hide
don’t run
don’t shut
down

simply put:
you must embrace
the fear

you must
and you must
tell others to
as well

and you all,
together,
shall be strong
enough to face the
darkness that
inhabits
this
world

and when the hour
dawns and the battle
comes to fruition

it will be the fearless
that succeed
and the meek
shall be driven
from this
earth

I was on a plane
when suddenly the
“fasten seat-belt” light
came on
and the pilot
came over the intercom
and said,

“I’m sorry folks,
but it seems we’re
going down”

whilst everyone panicked
the man to my right kept
reading

did he not hear?
he’s not old,
he can’t be deaf

how is he not saying his last
prayers or begging or etc.
etc. etc.

so I asked him

and he seemed not to
hear me

so I asked him again

“oh be quiet
for god’s sake”

“I’m trying to
read”

what’s the book?
I asked, shell-
shocked


“who cares?”
he said,
“I’ve got half a
chapter to go and
about half a minute
to finish
this”

and suddenly my situation
seemed all the less grim

the writing of a poem,
much like the taking of a ****,
is most satisfying when
it is large, slightly painful,
and locks you away in a small
room for what seems like
hours

and it was Bukowski
who said that the most satisfying
part of this is flushing
it away

seeing it go forth
into places that you.
yourself, shall never
have the heart to
brave

what now,
we wonder, staring
up at the stars that both
inspire us and contain
us so

what do we with our
lives in the face of all
these eventualities

each day seems to
tell us we can’t go
on

so what now,
we wonder, staring
up at all the possibilities
we were promised

thinking quietly,
*******, how we were
cheated

I awake,
finding myself
in a car
speeding
down a highway
in the middle
of the
night

someone
is driving

I do not recognize them,
I am afraid to speak

something
hints that it’s
smirking,
taking a small laugh
at my expense

it leans over then,
looking at me I know,
but it has no
face

it whispers

your turn

and is gone

somewhere,
a woman lights a cigarette
outside a central London flat
pulling her jacket in close,
her scarf closer, the night
is her closest friend

when a man approaches her,
he will say hello, smile a toothy
smile, and ask her if she has
an extra cigarette

she, of course, does
and hands it to him
and lights it for him

he laughs and smiles that
toothy smile again and she
returns the favor

they will forget the cold then
somehow

and this simple moment
is how humanity advances,
each lumbering step as
delicate as a caterpillar
trudging across the easy
flower of a spring day

a lizard scurries up a white wall
as lightening flashed
miles away

the oldness of this city
means so little

as we approach the fort,
the furthest point
the great Spanish empire
ever reached,
I am stricken by the hollowness
of it all

the stone seems plastic
the palms an illusion

the bridge stretches across
the water, lights strewn
across its concrete length,
and the lightening still
flashes when the mood
strikes it

the water seems black,
shady, dull, brooding

it holds some deep secret
(but, for once, it is not my
reflection)

this night hurts

I wonder where I should go
with these feelings as I trudge
silently through the night

Good morning America!
Welcome to another day!

feel free to be yourself
do what you want
follow your dreams
be who you want to be
but be careful now:

be sure you’re being who
you really are

and for god’s sake please
don’t do anything
stupid

or embarrass
us

oh that would be
most dreadful

but anyways-

Good morning America!
Good morning to you!

all you happy-faced,
pale-skinned,
judeo-christian
suckers

I hope you enjoy this day
exactly as we tell you
to

I sit,
contemplating
the world,
as I look out upon
a green country,
spotted by tan umbrellas,
and the blue ocean
waits somewhere
nearby

my apologizes go out
only for my actions.

as for the universe,
and situation it put you in,
I can say nothing.

except that I apologize
luck was not on your side,
and hopefully he will
be nicer next time.

a man stopped by today.

he worse sunglasses, shorts,
a loose, breathable button-up,
and open-toed shoes.

he asked to come in and
I let him. he complemented
the living room and the
kitchen.

“what a look. so different
from all those California
shacks back home.”

“California?” I said,
“you’re far away
from home.”

“oh, I’m closer than
you’d think.”

what he lacked in formality
he made up for in mystery.

he asked me where he was,
he seemed to be lost.

“Atlanta” I said.

“where you headed?”
I added, after a
pause.

“oh, nowhere.” he said,
“just thought I’d get my
bearings.”

he let himself out then,
leaving me with only
that.

we’re nearing impact
the time is about to come
brace yourself
get ready

we’ve got hell to go through
before this is over

it is half past midnight
and I am stumbling around in
the dark of enlightenment,
trying to find the lesson
it has for me this time
so I get the hell
out of
here.

it’s a funny thing,
knowledge,
one of the trickiest
of the trickster
gods.

the one with the sickest
sense of humor, that’s for
sure.

but he seems
to know what he’s
doing.

he always helps me out,
eventually.

but come on man.
I know what you’re doing.
stop ******* around
and just hit me
with it.

neither you nor I want it
but I’ve got to have it,
don’t I?

so hit me with it:

not in the shins with the coffee table,
not on the back with the arm of a coat,
but right in my face, with the full brunt
of your force.

I want it.
I need it.

it’s half past midnight
and I’ve got **** to
do.

that’s it?
that’s the big finale?

we all wait for the
rim-shot

Don’t ask me why I was standing in the middle of my backyard that Friday evening in March unscrewing a bolt, but do know that I was standing in the middle of my backyard that Friday evening in the middle of March, and I was attempting to unscrew a bolt. The bolt belonged to the remains of a gazebo we had built last summer, a fairly nice, painted-aluminum thing with copper colorings and khaki drapes. It had been blown over in a wind-storm sometime over the winter and I had been dreading the day I would have to come outside and take it apart, piece by piece, and finally get rid of the wreckage of what had once been a beautiful center piece to our back yard.

            The reason I had finally gotten around to taking it apart was that I was angry. This is also probably why I didn’t care that it was raining, or that the sun was setting in less than an hour, or that I would much rather be in my room sitting around and doing nothing. I enjoy physical labor more when I’m angry. If I can avoid any complications, I work briskly and feel better overall when I am done. Unfortunately, this was not one of the times I avoided complications.

            The particular bolt I was working on seemed to know that I didn’t need something frustrating to deal with. It waited until it was the last one that needed unscrewing to suddenly become difficult. After ten minutes, I had gone at it with Phillip’s head ***** drivers, flat heads, two different types of wrenches, and my own bare hands, but still it refused to budge. In between mad attempts to turn the stubborn piece of metal, I would make quick little circles away from it. Up the brick path I was working next to then back down it, alternately glaring at and shunning my nemesis as I went. Each circle was my way of letting out the excess frustration building with each failed attack on the bolt. But as my attacks become more frequent and my efforts seemingly more futile, I was beginning to lose control of emotions.

            The whole situation felt menacing. The corpse of the gazebo wore a condescending smile, my tools giggled each time they failed, and the bolt said nothing, sitting smugly in its socket. I will defeat you, I thought, I will unscrew you and it will feel good to throw you into the woods and forget about you. But I knew that winning this battle would not mean I won the war. My mood was shot. While I set out to make myself feel better, I only ended up feeling worse in the long run. Regardless, this realization did not reduce my anger. I was determined to unscrew this ****** and that was all I could think about.

            Taking hold of a wrench in one hand and a ***** driver in the other, I twisted and jammed the two things for as long as I could. When the bolt didn’t come unbound, I grabbed one half of the structure I was trying to deconstruct and began to rip and tear it with all of my might. When it still wouldn’t budge, I loudly screamed “fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck”, and with one last burst of strength, lifted it above my head and used my other hand to smash the bolt until it was loose in the socket. This was when I finally was able to unscrew the bolt and its uneventful fall to the ground was somehow unsatisfying at the time.

            Taking my newly freed hand, I grunted loudly and hurled the hunk of precision cut aluminum piping over to where another piece of the former gazebo lay. I sat breathing heavily, even if the moment lasted only a few seconds and required only a fraction of my strength. I realize now that I breathed so hard because this was an emotionally straining task. Man against machine. Unstoppable against the unmovable. And I had won, but not before I lost control. Lost myself deep into a fit of rage where I could hardly recognize myself. Anger, I realized long ago, is not my natural state. I get sick with it after even a short time. Those retched moments when rage takes over the entirety my mind are some of the worst in my life.

            I’m still not sure why we humans have never found a better way to deal with anger. We have two options: To bottle it up or to let it out. And the former always eventually leads to the latter. In my life, I’ve managed to avoid anger all together. I stray from conflict, do not work with people I dislike, avoid restricting my ability to get out of any contract or dedication. But I can’t always hide from it, and I suppose that’s why I was standing in the middle of my backyard that Friday evening in March trying to unscrew a bolt that I was convinced was my very worst enemy. I was trying to untighten something much deeper, much darker, something I don’t think I, or most people, ever have the depth to deal with. It seemed the only way out was to fall back on the imperfect methods of my ancestors, and for the time being, I decided that was alright.

I dream of a shoreline,
endless, not silent
but quiet-

birds caw out on the ocean,
waves break as the sun sets,
salt smells rush into my brain
and for some reason I smile

this is what I dream of
a peaceful place
a simple place
constantly in motion
but never seeming
to change

too long I have been adrift
too long has my world
been tossed about

it is time to find that shore,
build a bungalow by the sea,
eat shellfish, walk to the market,
write poetry about nature,
and make love whenever the
mood strikes

it is time to be myself,
living along a tragically
impossible dream

looking out,
grey branches grasp
at grey skies
and death sings
pleasantly amongst the
underbrush

looking up,
a breeze distracts
and pulls me towards a
newly cleared sky

looking back,
a green explosion
spread instantly across
the landscape,
the world now a painted
mess mere words are
hardly fit to
describe

spring arrived today in a green convertible
with the top down

he smiled, behind his sunglasses,
looking refreshed,
at ease,
and he asked how my
winter was

good, I said,
barely even felt like it
to be honest

“good, good.”
spring said, still smiling

and we stood there.

I, baking under the fresh sun,
he baking too, but somehow  
seeming not to mind,
seeming to like it,
be empowered
by it

spring took a deep breath
and smiled even wider once
he closed his lips

“well, old friend”
he said,
“I’ll be seeing you,
I’m headed to the beach,
or maybe into the woods,
I dunno.”

“but I’ll see you
there”

and he drove off

his green convertible buzzing happily
towards the edge of a new and beautiful
world

I am a master of the universe

I outstretch my fingers and the stars outstretch themselves
I reach for their tender glow,
catching them in my hands,
and I take deep whiffs of their eternal scents,
feeling their magic flow through me,
into me, through my mind
and my body,
down into my muscles,
my heart, stomach,
and then into my
fingers

the feeling of energy,
pulsating, strong, steady,
a heart-beat of the ethereal,
an existence thriving on
the non-existent

I am a master of the universe,
I move the stars and sway the moon,
I eat the darkness and make art out of light,
I sing songs of a thousand implosions,
I dance with the expansion of the void

let me into you
let me into your life

I am happiness, I am joy,
I am the want for better,
I am obtaining it, I am achieving it,
I am doing things right, doing things well,

I am the universe itself

all enveloping, all encompassing,
all loving

do not fear me,
for I do not fear ever

love for love’s sake,
love for the purpose of
love

never hide
never wear a mask

be yourself,
flaunt yourself,
look at yourself,
let others look at
you

and if they frown,
let them frown

assess their complaints and internalize them
take them for what they are,
for what they mean
and use them if you wish,
or if you do not wish

I will tell you this
and tell you this again

we are not apart
we are together
we are one
one thing
and that one thing
is all of us
not just you and I
but he and she
and they

they too are us
we too are them

do not fear that
do not feat that

for you cannot fear what
is true

only what may be
or what is not

oh well oh well oh well

we **** up and that is ok
that is ok,
that is ok

take another try
do not not try again
for that is death
even in life
so many die
and I weep for them
I cry at night
I cry in the day
inside my heart
in my mind

I weep

for the dead living lives of death

I weep

oh yes

I weep

but then I smile at them, take them in my arms,
let them struggle, let them be alerted, let them
try to escape and when they cannot, I let them
rest, I let them accept it, accept me, accept us,
accept you and I, he, she, and I, and when they
do we all feel better, we all feel better don’t we?

don’t fear don’t fear don’t fear don’t fear don’t
love love love love love love love love love love

(is the only way)

know this
and know this
well

we are not apart we are one
we are one

we and the stars
and the earth and the oceans
and the trees and birds
and rats and mooses
and guitars and waves
and pens and desks
and digital viruses
and corpses

we once all were the same
we are still the same
still matter
still energy

connected, if invisibly,
by our common past

once we were all each other
and that is how it is

ok?

ok

the masters of the universe know what I say

they do not fear, they love
and love again, they love,
and love again, even when
love is gone

they do not fear, they love

so those masters of the universe, like me,
like me, they reach their hands out into
the blackness, reaching out for little lights
to brighten their lives, but when they have
them, they do want them (for themselves)
they seek to share them, give them away,
take what they need and remove all the
rest

this, this is the way of the universe

one big exchange, constantly shifting,
moving, changing hands, coming under
new management, forgetting yesterday
in search of tomorrow, this universe
swirls with activity and that is beauty

read fast for time is fast

it slips away between the cracks into the realm of nothing,
like death with life of living death, it disappears in plane
sight

this, alone, is the biggest shame of all

embrace this,
remember this,
forgo this,

do as you think is best,
whether you were taught or you thought for yourself,
do it, for it is the best way,
the best life for you,
that,
that is true

let me list some true things:

I am not me,
I am not myself,
I am not just myself,
I am more
I desire to be more

everything I do is meant to extend beyond myself
into you I say, I throw my love, and though it may
bounce off, falling flat, floppy, on the floor, for my
effort I will be rewarded (you will be rewarded)
once my trials come to conclusion

this master of the universe offers you this as one last offering
a token of my life to keep with you forever

but paper burns,
inks fades,
ice melts,
and planets explode

the sun will die and us maybe
too

so do not take this for its worth
take it for its meaning

I am a master of the universe
finally curling up,
and taking my rest

forgo the happiness
we have history to make

we are all the **** of the earth

we are murderers and thieves
we are behemoths of waste; spoiled with desire
we spit on intelligence
forgo warning
think not
worry not
we consume always
we make gods out of bigots
and worship ourselves
we are the ****
the trash
the throw-outs
the refuge
yes, yes we are

we are what we like least,
what we need least

what will get us (in the end)

when the world finishes
when the curtain clothes
when we are swallowed

the hand behind the blade,
the assailant responsible,
our murderer,
our killer,
our horsemen,

will be us.