If you hadn't...what?
Been afraid?
Your work was cut out for you
How many told you to walk out on me?
Did your father finally convince you?
Who told you I was faking?
Who convinced you it wasn't real?
Tell me so I can hold him or her accountable
Thus clearing your innocent name
...but If there was nobody else
Planting words and ideas in your brain
You must have thought of it yourself
Forget till death do we part
I really believed love would keep that promise
But you got stuck between sickness and health
Had fear consumed all your love even then?
I empathize but I blame you
You could have stuck around at least long enough to watch for improvement, offering encouragement
I know it was frightening to you. It was scaring the hell out of me
But I was strong enough to hold you
Had you only been there to hold
When did you stop loving me?
I was a lost cause in that day

Swimming in a pond filled with snakes
The moonlight's reflection shimmered with the ripples
It was only a matter of time before I was bitten
I barely felt it when the fangs pierced my thigh
But soon enough the swelling began
Along with excruciating pain
There'd be a mark left that would never go away
I was lucky the one that got me wasn't venomous
Still it hurt like hell
A sensation I can even now conjure in my mind
I will always be able to do that
Why hadn't I listened to the warnings?
The place was spooky enough
The prospect of water moccasins and king snakes
Should have kept me out of the water
It was a hot evening, even as the sun went down
The water was cool
I felt like swimming
So I dived in

Phong hit the ground
Within a second of the sound
Of the gunshot that laid him down
Loosened the grip on his own weapon
At the moment of impact
It fell with a thud
Next to his body in the mud
When his head hit the hard earth
He heard thunder and saw light

The bullet in the North Vietnames man's skull was made in America
Loaded by The Poet earlier that afternoon
Along with the rest of his ammo
In the second after Phong died
Poet lowered his sight
And came to an abrupt and awkward halt
There was no denying the man was hit
Even less to prove the man was dead
The hole in the back of the metal helmet
Was the same size as the hole in the back of the dead man's head

Instinct bred caution even so
As The Poet slowly tread the fifteen yards
Between where he stood and where Phong lay
He crouched down
Rolled him over slowly
Placed his fingers on the corpse's eyelids
(I know you can see me)
Shut them gently
(May the darkness be your savior)

The Poet took the bayonet knife bolstered at his side
Pressing down on Phong's shoulder
He cut an incision between the man's chest muscles
With a gentle sawing he cut through tendons and bone
Until a trough had formed
A six inch baptismal filled with blood
Still almost warm as life
The Poet plunged his left hand deep into the pool
Grabbed hold of Phong's heart and tugged
He caught the resistance of the arteries
And severed them
With the knife in his right hand

Raising the dripping ***** to his nose
The poet inhaled deeply the strange odor
Inspiration teased
Quickly The Poet brought Phong's heart to his mouth
With a huge bite his mouth was full
His brain felt as it would explode
The drama and the dreams of the whole world
He chewed and savored the flavor
He had come to appreciate it during his time in the jungle
As well the firm gelatinous texture
The saltiness of the blood
This was The Poet's reward

With the last swallow he wiped his hands on Phong's shirt
He felt a piece of paper folded in the right pocket
A letter, written in Vietnamese
And though he didn't know the language
Somehow a few sentences made sense

"Confessor
My soul is tormented
I am a liar
My wicked heart has made me do despicable things
Words and actions without regard
Of consequences
Things that would hurt people, if they only knew
If they knew what I have done
They would rise against me and do ******
I would deserve whatever punishment they saw fit
For I am a renegade poet
And I have lost all respect for the art"

As he finished reading the page
The Poet felt nausea in his gut
He dropped the paper
Bent over and vomited
He heaved several times until his stomach was empty
Then he just stood there, hands on knees
Staring at the mess
(I have a message for all mankind)
He forced himself to look at it
Until inspiration left him

He reached for his gun
Stood up and walked to Phong's rifle
Bent to pick it up as well
Strapping it to his side
The Poet walked away
As a gentle breeze blew the confession
Far from Phong's lonesome body

I'm doing what I can
I can't do anymore
Be honest with myself
Isn't that what you want?
Integrity? Isn't it enough?
It had better be
Because it's all I've got
Not that it feels like it does me any good
I'm just tired
I fall asleep during the opera

Diamanda Galas exhales an old ***** spiritual
Her multi-octave voice finds it's niche in a thousand places of the sound spectrum
Sticks there like screeching glue, beautiful in it's own way
No pretty wallpaper
I don't get pretty wallpaper very often

I read and read until at last I understand
And I say to myself, "how could I have missed that?"
It was so obvious
Mundane when the mystery had been revealed
Left with the usual

Diamanda Galas singing "One Barrel Prayer"
And that's pretty much what it sounds like

The hard part is acknowledging
The devil inside
Holding him back is simpler
Than admitting he's there
So I confess
The devil's inside
He's been off to find trouble
Now he's found a place to hide
I have to trust my better angels
To keep him close at bay
Else I know just what he'd do
We'd do exactly what I know we'd do
Would not stop until tears were shed
Hearts broken
No remorse
So I turn on the black metal
And let him dance until he wears himself out
Channel the rage into the noise
Turn it into music
With any luck he'll sleep
For a long, long time
Long enough for me to forget about you
And all the things I want to do