Years of personal experience,
I made my recommendation,
but the know-it-all didn't listen,
he bought the canary-colored backpack anyway.  

I chuckled under my breath,
thinking how
every toucan in the jungle
was going to be chasing him
on his dream vacation
to the jungle.

Idiot.

I have walked with devils,
held their hands
in the darkest corners
of the material world, but
they've shown me nothing of value,
only drained me of my sanity,
my assets & my faith.

And when
I prayed to Jesus
for assistance,
I found out
he was big business too.
For a small donation,
they said they'd say a prayer
for my salvation.

Hell, what kind of Jesus
takes money
from destitute people
in trouble
& asking for help?
Tell me, Jesus!

He stood at the
height of most men's
shoulders.
But grew into the
size of Goliath while
full of wheat barley and ****.

His pale blue eyes
sat peacefully in the center of the
angry blood shot pool
that had once been
as white as the
hair on his head.

He was handy with his
hands but his hands
usually held a bottle.
He drank only at certain
bars,only around those
who had come to
know his rage.

He wasn't allowed home
when ever he had become
one with the ranting
and raving lunatic
who lived deep down
in his soul.

His voice was raspy
from too many cigarettes
and too much
drunken screaming.

He had pains that called
for pills and names he
swore he would ****.

And he drank every time
like it was it his first time
or maybe the last.
Always enough to
awake that
giant within.

I walked  in step
with that old guy
beside me.
Watched as he craned
his old neck around
at every
sweet smelling
beauty that  passed us
by.

We stay that way for awhile.
Walking ,watching the parade of
hometown and home grown
beauty's walking,driving and pedaling
their way past.
For a few moments
I fell in Love.
And they all lasted
just long enough
to watch the different
versions of her blend into
the streets and vanish.

We approached  some boys
sneaking left handed
cigarettes while sitting
on a wall half hidden
from the world beneath a
drooping
eucalyptus.

A tall boy rose his
chin to me as his fist
went into a ball.
I smiled as the Old Man
and I continued on.

I casually tightened my grip
on the pistol in my pocket.
But I had already
decided to let
this stupid young
boy grow into an
idiot of a man.

I caressed the
warm pistol inside
my warm coat pocket.
I felt the idiots eyes
burning into my back.


The brave Bull Fighter
came to mind
and the idiot beast
whose craving for
the flag of
red draws him to his
doom.

Cruel I've been along
my way,
the slaughter is what
stays with you.
All the rest
was just
time spent in
passing.

The old man
who finds me
when I'm unsure and
afraid,troubled and
out of drugs and searching for
reasons to continue on shook his
grey head as I looked his way.

I did what I always do
at the sight of him.
I  laughed both to myself
and at myself.
Once that started the Old
man got to laughing which soon
turned into coughing.
Then like we always do,
we took the briefest of
moments and said our good byes
with our eyes.
Two sets of the same eyes
both witnessing it all
together.
One set reminding the
other of how much longer he has to be
here.
I secretly thank
him and he always
reminds me that I'm not
going any where any time
soon.

Blood dripped from my eyes like tears.
Maybe they were just tears.
It dripped from my mouth and I dug my nails into my palms, wishing it would stop.
Blood began to drip from my palms too.
Something stung my side.
I put my hand to it and pulled it away, now completely covered in red.
Although it was not exactly red.
It was dark, making the red more of a black maroon.
I was drowning in black maroon.
You'd think being covered in blood would be enough to wake me up completely.
But sadly it wasn't.
Laying in half-consciousness, my blanket slowly soaking in black maroon.
Tangling around my legs and around one of my arms, I couldn't get it off.
Suffocating in a wet blanket, crying with closed eyes, wanting to die.
I heard music.
A piano.
I didn't know who was playing, or why, or where.
I stopped struggling long enough to listen, it was happy and loud.
'What is there to be happy about?'
I wondered, no one is coming to save me.
I heard a little girl laughing.
"Play my favourite, James!"
She had an accent I couldn't identify, but her request changed the song.
The music stopped for a moment, then when it started again, it was soft and sweet.
But also sad.
I could feel the music creating cracks in my heart.
Someone was walking towards my room.
I turn so I'm laying on my other side, now facing the door.
A pool of black maroon was spreading on the floor.
My breath stopped as I froze.
No one could ever bleed that much.
The door began to open and she walked in.
She couldn't have been much older than I, tall and so thin I thought she would snap, she walked in with a grace and balance so fine it couldn't have been human.
Then I saw her hands.
Her palms were metal, shining in the light from the hall.
Her fingers each a long thin blade.
I felt my heart stop completely.
I looked up and wish I hadn't.
Her face was so sunken in you could see every bone, her eyes hollow shadows.
She was beautiful.
Until she lunged for me and I heard my own screaming echoing inside me as I sat up in bed.
I was shaken but standing.
But broke when I saw the right side of my face covered in dried black maroon, and the matching stain that covered half of my pillow.