It goes deeper than murder.

Imagine the house is on fire. Imagine
I am on fire. As I avoid the worms, turn
a wine glass on its side--watch as the liquid
quietly slips-- as the flames pulse and lick
my thoughts about the face of Jesus. I resolve
to be weaponless; you resolve to sever the hand
that reaches for the doorknob of my release. If this
is hell, then I am a dog-- bound to the post by the chain
fashioned with my teeth. If this is hell, then I am
at fault for missing the train, the subway, the airplane.
If this is hell, then I announce with finality that you are
a bastard.