befriend the demon, and drink the water...
|Silent insects crawl around my head. Bad electricity flows through my veins. Stones protect me from the glass bats that fly close to my desires, but I do not feel safe, I do not feel good inside. Darkness inches into my heart as the raft I’m on in the Atlantic losing more air. Signal flares, whistles and lovely things surround me. Aquatics are terrible today, the ocean is filled with vodka and the snakes and ocean animals are floating, bloated, dead. Reminding me that good does come to all who wait; I start to figure how long a wait is. Is waiting that moment after you get impatient, after you expect something to happen, or is waiting before the moment your expectations expect?
I’ll kill myself before starvation, loneliness or dehydration set in.
My mouth spits at hope as this raft I’m on absorbs more sun. I think about Jesus Christ, a savior, I lick at the air and close my eye lids tight to remember images of Him. All that comes to mind are beautiful visions of Bathsheba, there below, but she’s not alone this time. No, she is with another man, this time around.
Not knowing whether to reject these thoughts/images from my mind, or simply accept them to save my energies. I continue to watch the film play out in my head.
Bathsheba lays there with her legs spread, as the man pushes his thick dryness into her flesh, she moans with pain.
“I will give you what you want.” whispers a voice from the shadows. Turning my head, it’s my old friend Lucifer, I can never trust him, but I can never deny that he gives me all the things I desire.
“I will give you something you cannot live without this time, Vernon...” His lisp now begins to enhance his charm.
“And what might that be?” I ask in a helpless manner.
“The spirit of murder.” He states as his lips spray small speckles of saliva onto my face and lips.
“You hate that man down there with that married woman; you want to be the one inside of her… yes? You want to be the one entering her perfect holes… yes? You want to spray your semen deep into her warm keep… yes?” He convinces me of everything he is saying.
I hear the words, “yes?...yes?...yes?...yes?...yes?...yes?...” until my eyes open and it is night suddenly. Still on a raft, still on the ocean of fear, only now I’m awake from a blissfully horrific dream. In my pants there is a tightness that I ignore. I want to cry, but I cannot bring myself into thinking I’ll be dying, just yet. I want to sleep so that I’m not left here awake, and to the devices in my mind.
Even as I write this I understand that others hate, or are, for the most part, disinterested in reading stories of others being stranded in the middle of the ocean or desert or at the bottom of a well. There are only two outcomes always, only two outcomes ever, life or death. It’s the black and white my audience understands well, cause life and death is apart of the lives they live.
A ship rescued me later in that week, but not my heart nor my mind.
What is it within us that let us dream and have such horrid dreams? & they happen all the time. Always questions.
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