11:20:03,
The bad room, the bedroom, shown.
It glowed and candled us all into its corner,
With sleeping despair.

It said this, "Come with me into,,."
The next corner was not so polite.
"First and then this and that",
Followed by "Aiiirrgghg, and when she's sleeping, kill her,
slit her throat."

Harry had a plan,
It was to kill all the Indians before morals were invented.
"When was the advent or morals?,
All at once?" asked the little lamb before her slaughter.
No, said the edge as it rose. "Piece by piece".
And as a side note,
I first became aware of my mortality in my father's office above the garage.
I was five and he was playing Beethoven at full volume on his Choice Sound System.
I was sitting amongst pillows, drawing with pastels.
I remember something stopped me.
It was a piece of the music.
My eyes filled, the room became an expanse of overwhelming size.
The red carpet turned to sea, the cream walls to distant sky.
And the music filled it all with a swirling sound of a reality I had not yet been introduced to.
Yet, I knew just what to call it. Death.

I understood at that moment, that I was to die.
And my father to die, and my mother, and my dog to die all.
What a cruel trick.
And clearly one with no escape route.
That was the first time I could remember feeling totally out of fucking control.
The first time I realized the predicament I had been born into.
I cried there on the pillows for a few.
And then, I raised up and I approached the back of my father's chair.
I asked him, and he said, like a man bound to the truth,
"Yes Alex, it's true."