N.F.

*God is a set*



*of certain values.*



*He is the values*



*and they are him.*



 



We are one



and the same.



He, if he punctures



my face with leathery



 



hands. Me, when I slam



through the glass



library door, and puncture



my mouth with a cigarette.



 



I become the library but it



is not me. I am not yet defined.



Define is a proposition. I swear



I couldn’t read until the tenth



 



grade, and not because



I was locked away,



but because of my occupation



pouring concrete or playing



 



basketball. *The set must*



*follow a rule. The*



*predicate and the subject*



*must be in an order.*



* *



*The Bad Man is just*



*God with an empty set.*



*He is not God, and God*



*is not him, but God is*



* *



*that set of values that will*



*get lost the next time you*



*misplace it or forget*



*to pass it on to your children.*



* *



*The Bad Man becomes*



*the hereditary trait and mixes*



*with God’s set. Soon, there*



*is no set or no God, but only*



* *



*empty. They become each*



*other, and the doors, and my*



*father. The bad man is God*



*if his set were empty.* I become



 



my body, the communion,



you, take it as the sacrifice.



I am the bad man, and he



is I, but we are not one.



 



He, if he takes



his leathery hands



and slams them through



me, even though I know



 



they are my hands too,



and even if I shout, father,



I am me. *God cannot*



*shout this, he is one*



* *



*with his set. So his*



*shout is the same*



*as his words and his father*



*and his hands are not*



* *



*leathery, because he is perfect,*



*or at the very least*



*he is constrained to be.*



Unlike me, he is



 



the boundary and his



very own set, and he



doesn’t need to shout,



*Father, why have you*



* *



*got hands that are so*



*leathery when you haven’t*



*once left the office, other*



*than to drive home too*



* *



*fast and drink a little*



*too much and touch your*



*hand to my face, too fast*



*for affection, with your hands that you*



* *



*haven’t ever washed or knelt*



*down to take communion*



*the right way, like me,*



*without belief in God,*



* *



*Father, I am you*



*and me but I am only*



*me, the bad man.* He is God. 



He is an empty set.