LONESOME ROAD / ULYSSES EDITION, I.
no damage done, yet. maybe in years.
had to speak of it, in case the words got lost in paper, ink, or other’s voices. maybe even yours, in time.
belongs to you, now, or history. doesn’t matter.
sometimes can judge a man by his messengers. sometimes the messengers judge him.
they thought to show respect ... defiled it.
let the land do the killing for you. that’s one of the things you taught me.
killing is personal—so’s vows, promises. last bit’s more important to me than the first.
we’ll have to keep with what we know. tired of history’s lessons, anyway.
nothing but wind, sand ... ash. more may reveal itself in time, not now.
wind and blood has uncovered more beneath the soil.
i’ve been to your home, the place you kept returning to ... may not be the place you were born, was the place you gave life to, same thing.
like you, and not like you, in all the ways that matter.
you got lives in you, hard to kill. storms, bullets ... sand and wind, yet still you walk. for now.
this place is a slice of it. old military. can still smell the pride — and the fear.
if you saw their corpses, you saw mercy.
america sleeps ahead of you, its nightmares filled with quakes, storms.
it may break you. we’ll see if you’re stronger.
pain makes for strange allies.
if they matter ... if history matters ... we’ll see at the end of the road.
it weighed you down long enough to let death catch up to you ... but you survived.
we all have death following us, only a question of how close. you dodged it — for a time. you’re good at that, talent for it.
it’s dangerous. left to the land, the land has its way.
if i wanted you dead, we would have met sooner. not sure that’s the way this ends.
they’re more beasts than men now. they clutch at their pain as they clutch at their weapons ... anchors them.
they revere their mines and explosives, guns ... that is their religion — death from afar, take pride in it.
it’s just a name — you have no idea who i am. you’ll know by the end.
you’re wasting time. stalling. won’t help you.
that’ll only get you sand between your fingers — or over your grave.
who are you, who do not know your history?
you knew what was coming, as sure as i know what’s coming for you.
you carry death wherever you go.
your road’s not done. haven’t walked it full yet, not nearly enough.
already heard you once, long ago and loud enough for history to hear. tired of your messages.
curiosity drove you this far. let’s see what else it can do.
if killing needs to be done, i’ll face my victims ... not kill from a distance, like you.
when i speak in anger, [name], you’ll know it.
i’ll see you answer for this. the road doesn’t end here, there’s more to come, i swear to you.
as for anger ... it is what i carry for the dead.
revenge is not the name i’d give it. not the name the dead would give it.
revenge isn’t the message i have for you. more than that ... courier.
burn away the flags. begin again.
if you feel its loss ... remember you could have turned away at any time. gone back home, and none of this would have happened.
that’s why i knew you’d come, [name]. couldn’t stay away, it’s who you are.
no, this isn’t about family — or any common blood. it’s blood shared by acts, not by chance.
