for the you who inspired the writing of this book who forced the hand that lifted the pen who marched the words across the page I speak of you you you and you I speak to the you who hides inside the universal I speak of the you who chooses silence as a form of currency i speak of the you with averting eyes who turns away at the falling of the axe I speak of the you who wash your hands obsessively i speak of the you in the us and the them i speak to the you inside the i i speak that you may know this much that i would gladly consume the rotten core of that apple grown of vengeful thoughts that i would stand unflinching in the path of that brick the same brick i once hurled through a pane glass window that i would take back the jagged and the jaded the gentle and the jarring i would take back every word of every poem on every page i would take it all back in exchange for one wish i wish i wish i wish that this had never happened