I’m coming for you motherfucker. You just wait. I’m waiting. I am waiting. I’m a spider and I’ll stab you in the fly. I’m the king of infinite space, cultivating my time, and the instant you so much as twitch I’m on you. I’ll be there. On you like that. You hear me? Course you don’t but I hear you. I see you. I’m staring back. And I’m coming at you from all sides asshole. I’ll put pills in your water and a knife in your back and it will be so fast you wont even, you’ll think maybe. It won’t even register. Funny, very! I’m coming for you; it’s a matter of time. I can feel in my soul the time it takes to count the numbers between the nerve impulse at the start of my strike and your movement into ideal position. The numbers are small when calculating for the slimmest little knife blade of a kairotic moment. O but I’ve made a science of transecting knives; it’s become my religion. You keep to the spirit of where ignorance is bliss; I’ll get you in my own time.