Poem.

THE HUNTER OF --UTTERANCE—OF DESTRUCTION HE’S THE HUNTER OF UTTERANCE OF DESTRUCTION HE SLEEPS WHEN I’M AWAKE I LONG TO HEAR HIM WHISPER TO GIVE MY EARS A BREAK HIS TONGUE IS A LOADED GUN ITS BARREL AS COLD AS ICE AND LATE AT NIGHT WHEN I AM SLEEPING HIS BULLETS STRIKE ME TWICE HIS THROAT IS STUCK WITH RESIN AS HE PULLS BACK ON HIS BOW HE LISTENS FOR A HEARTBEAT A SOUND HE YEARNS TO KNOW HE’S THE HUNTER OF UTTERANCE OF DESTRUCTION HIS TARGET IS A LIFE AND WHEN HE SEES ME BREATHING HE SHARPENS EVERY KNIFE HIS FINGER’S ON THE TRIGGER AS I’M REACHING FOR A PAIL FOR ALL MY BLOOD TO DRAIN INTO FOR TO QUENCH HIM IN HIS HELL HE’S THE HUNTER OF UTTERANCE OF DESTRUCTION IN CONFIDENCE HE SOARS WITH EVERY WORD THAT’S UTTERED THROUGH EVERY VAIN THAT POURS THERE’S TOO MUCH INFORMATION TOO MUCH NOISE IN HIS BRAIN THEN HE DIGS A GRAVE TO PUT ME IN WHEN HE SEES THAT I’VE BEEN SLAIN HE’S THE HUNTER OF UTTERANCE OF DESTRUCTION HIS VOICE IS DARK AND DEEP AND DEATH IS ALL AROUND HIM WHEN HIS WORDS HAVE GONE TO SLEEP Bet D. Dec 15,07