I was seven years old. I approached the priest in earnest… “I want to take the lord Jesus in… He instructed me to kneel and pray… A week passed.

Your end? My end? Where the hell’s the middle? You say this. I say that.

I am seven years old. My brother is ten. The beating was brutal. My brother is recovering conscious… I believed he was dead.

He’s been around the block and even toured the world, with scars upon scars to show from many a hard-fought battle. Yet like many old dogs

I was surrounded by many desperate, troubled people. There was much drinking, drugging, and violence. Women were being bought and sold,

These words I cry do not come easily; as if they echo from the cold stone depths of a long forgotten tomb.

There’s a furious raging mob out beyond the temple walls; howling with a lust for murder of the next contender for their cr… It's more to do with feral instinc…

I read such woeful words penned by a fallen brother; his message cut me deeply. He prayed to all that’s holy that he might cry again.

Look out there, see them, boy ? They want yer juice. They’re dry, them circlin’ desert… All they want's yer juice, boy.

Ideas and notions, they’re all for the dreamers, worth as much or less than one's considered opinion. You can’t even wrap fish in them.

Beloved goddess, sweet holy mother of us all, you who beckon me throughout these hectic days

I gaze into the bleakness of the e… engulfed by a sense of futility an… I am like the man who keeps fishin… though he knows the river is spent… I cast my line into the milky pool…