Salt heavy on the wind
of Gods grief.
Death on the tracks
more than a feeling
so vague and ethereal.

My eyes were 
locked and loaded
with steel and gin .
I felt the rattler
stirring in my blood.
The echoes of a
thousand screams
soaked in the skin
of my *****.

Reeds thick in the shallows
wall off the blood
made of darkness.
A pale blue smokey haze
of sadness, strength and grace .

I struck a match
on infinities smile .
Half a hundred candles
burned in prayer .

Floating to the surface
of Artisan Row
to take my dying slowly.