The hunter and the hunted

All I had done was a large, flat, rough of dead; I got their hearts out of their breasts so carefully that they could feel each inch of my cold fingers inside them. I still remember how peacefully it felt having blood drops coming down right to my hand. I was God, they were just nothing, the same nothing from where we all show up. Look at them: they cannot cry anymore, they cannot ask for anything else but deeper silence, (forever silence). I cannot do anything else for them, it feels like I´m starting not to be able to cry either, they wont be asking me to stare at their pain anymore, they wont even (tell me to stop) ( wish my dead)anymore: I’m feeling sleepy, my extremities are beaten, they are telling me to sit for a while, to lay for ever …