Water. That was the first thing the man thought upon waking. Water. Clean, fresh, pure water. Water that could quench the seemingly endless thirst, water that could quell the temptation of  taking a sip of the black stream that slithered past him, as poisonous as a deadly viper, coiled and ready to strike.
           It was torture, this barren, roofless cave; the dry air abuse on the mans parched, cracking lips and sandy throat. The sun beat down from a cloudless sky, burning his already blistering brown skin to a crisp. He had been here two days, trapped under the relentless heat.  The man feared he would not survive another. He prayed that people where looking for him, that he was not deserted in this desert. Never had he felt so alone or afraid. Afraid of not being found, afraid of the snake stream, afraid of the swirling skies and the winds that whispered promises of death. He missed cold; he missed rain and sound and car alarms and most of all water. Clean, fresh, pure water. Water that could quench the seemingly endless thirst.
        The venomous water-serpent curled around his lips, and slithered in.

I was 17 the day you frantically tried to stop the blood flow and give me yours. Wearing a coat of grief and guilt you thought to yourself, Did I let her do this? Was this my fault? And how did I not see this coming?

Over and over I was trying to tell you this is not your fault, and I am so sorry that you are weeping, but I was unconscious and your screaming would have masked any poor words I could have attempted to mutter.

And at 1:32 in the morning I watched you grip my lifeless body, praying that the ambulance arrives in time, but they were just lonely words and I had already met God, and the way he looked at me, with the same hunger in his eyes a distraught ****** would convey. And he called to me! He cooed, “Please, please, come baby.” Chanting the unforgivable words that once robbed me of a childhood.

And he has attempted the seven deadly sins-succeeded with five  Lust, sloth, gluttony, greed and wrath. Yet has he been envious for what would be the reason? He is GOD, mighty and royal. And nor has he been filled with pride because his shame is to bone-although it doesn’t show. This is not the god I have been taught to love. He is not mighty. He does not pay for his sins and he cannot be forgiven, for who is he begging to? Filthy and judgmental  He wants me to know judgement day is upon us and only he who has obeyed the false instructions shall be accepted  And he wants me to know: I will not be one of the many.

Feeling *****, I go way down low. There i met the devil; soul crushing and obscene. Obscene as one can be. Someone who truly deserves agony, someone who deserves to burn. I say hello. He shakes his tail and crawls to me. He sniffs. He knows who I’ve met and he knows that I’ve left. I cringe under his abusive eyes. He strikes me-I strike back. I shall not be demeaned underneath this man who shows even god to be angelic. Humor proves to be his second language and his enjoyment comes from the blood of others; the smell of their fear; and their flesh stripped wounds satisfy his obvious lust. There I lie, stripped of my skin and red covered limbs. I allow myself to rise and he allows me to leave. His fun is over-what’s the use of a bag of bones?

Crawling back out i realize; our holy heaven and our flaming hell are only two different versions of evil.

What seems like a decade and what possibly could be-I crawl back to the house my soul no longer lives in. And at 1:34 in the morning I see my mother once again-she has a gun in her palm. Shaking. Crying. We both beg. I cannot stop her. She cannot hear me. Blood. Splattered walls. Two drenched bodies.

The hull is full of skeletons but I cannot prove a thing,
so instead I'll heave around the lines and softly start to sing.
Perhaps they'll send me to the brig
or have me dance a gallows jig.
but either way, I'm here to stay
until my body fades away.

So fellow sailors start to chant, I want t hear your voices.
They mean more to me than you will ever know.



*I'll be gone for a while but I'll be back...

it feels like years
but it was just
hours ago
when I finally let the flame
burning in the pit
of my soul
free for the first time
for all to see
and I screamed
for the first time
for all to hear

smoke billowed from my mouth
and as they
looked in and saw
my throat all scars and burns
they were horrified
and shocked
at how bad
I had let it get

they tried to put it out
but they couldn’t know
that it had been put out
for a long while now
that the black clouds were all a shadow
of what had once been an all-consuming fire
that burned silently behind my eyes
charring everything that passed through
them before I could ever even know
if it was beautiful or not

but this could have all happened
to someone else with the same burnings
that go unnoticed, unfelt by most
because that’s how I remember it
the man talking on the telephone
was not me
and the world I exposed myself to
was not her

so was the fire revealed?
is it still a pile of ash?
are the embers put out?
am I finally free?

I could not tell you
even if I listened
very, very
closely