I dreamt his wickedness dead-

no one knew

until I solved the mystery

of where when how

and then the blank bodies

faces I can’t remember

if they had one at all

I ask them—Did he die?

they all say yes

as if they knew, as if I told them

December 2nd was the last day he was seen

now, everyone knows he’s dead

I searched for every moving photo of us

of him alive

I gathered them up, I pinned them

the dead man that took something from me

Save him

He took something

he’s not lost yet

precious- away from me

I woke and asked myself

of why of what

of any sign of meaning

I killed him. It was me.

All the memories

I attacked t(him) in Stockholm on December 2nd

he’s dead, they’re dead, he’s dead

and I can’t remember t(him) at all