Under deep blue sky, in a middle of some massacre, while my
brother is getting killed in the tiny gas-can and the ashes
of his soul are wandering around, I peel the skin off of the
savage, the what used to be a man with a power-stand, a
place in the world and a body filled with instructions and
self-asteem. I eat a piece at a time, hiding in the shadows,
watching from outside. The blood runs dry quickly enough to
let the iron smell slip away and diffuse into a timeless
atmosphere, where I play the role of the chief and he is not
even a shell anymore.

I stand pure in front of God, no hard feelings needed or
redemption either. It's not killing in his name, it's
finding comfort, or trading myself for just a little bit of
peace of mind.