CAN I SEE OR AM I ENVISIONED (C) 2011-2012

2:35 AM:

            It’s half past the Witching Hour. Some say it is from three to four am. Guess, it depends on the time zone you’re in.

            Just like me to engage defense mechanisms with myself to escape the emotions. WHAT’S REALLY BOTHERING ME. This end of something. SHE WAS MY EVERYTHING, MY WHOLE LIFE. Damn, I am so pathetic. I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM                      God, My Loh’RD, seeking you through my thoughts. Through my studies.

            Shouldah’ BROKE IT OFF WITH HER LONG TIME AGO. CUZZ’ I compromised what I established myself “to be”. TO BE. So I must be doomed to always be in failed relationships.

            Quit putting THIS OFF. Gather all the things round’ here that remind me of her. Put em’ in the closet. Got the crappy pop music c.d.s, the clothes, silly photos, love notes sent, and love notes not sent.

            Open up the closet. Ya’ know the one that you store ex’s stuff in. The ex you can’t let go of. Damn, it’s long overdue. Store it away. Naw’-

-sooooh

            Uh

                I

                   Open up that closet door and there’s the bag. When I open it the smell of white supremacy personalized to me is rotten fish, cedar, stale cigarette smoke, urine, dirty clothes, gasoline, diesel and human body odor. I remember his stained brown tank top, his upper eye brow twitching uncontrollably, short legged, bald headed, suspender wearing. Tick, in the town of Whitmore handed me tools to fight crime for his cause of white supremacy. “Your armor.” Hands me the bullet proof vest. “You gonna’ need this to.” Hands me miniature lab tops. “That Satan got many eyes, boy. He sees everything. Now you get to experience that sortah’ power.” Gives me the brown paper bag filled with batteries and digital cameras. And uh, uh? Pieces of a rifle? Put it down…

“FEAR. FEARLESS, GOTTA’ BE.” Left it all behind. Why? In the event that I compromised all of what I was. ALL I AM.

            I take the bag Tick gave me. Set the lab top computer on my den table. Something inside me, is telling me to not open up the computer. Turn on the television to distract me. Superman movie with Christopher Reeves-regains his superpowers after leaving his powers behind to be with

Lois Lane

. “Aghhh DAMN’T!” This ain’t helping. Maybe reading a comic will get me in a better mood. But, that’s counter productive to my hyper influential mind. Yea, like I could actually be a super hero.

With out looking, I pick up the comic book Batman R.I.P. I reread the part with his girlfriend betraying him. A betrayal that led to him being caught by the bad guys.

“AGHHHH TA’ HELL WITH IT!” Put the comic away. Open the lab top. Smoke blows in my eyes. Is it CS? Mustard gas? THE SCREEN PROJECTS A HYPNOTIC TURNING SPIRAL. A VORTEX SUCKS ME IN. SOUNDS COME FROM THE COMPUTER. INSTRUCTIONS. FROM A GROUP OF PEOPLE TALKING ALL AT ONCE. Like my life flashing before death, images from scenes paralyze my body. I CAN’T STOP WATCHING. IT’S CHANGING ME.

Falling through the air. Cast. CAST OUT. LAND INTO ANOTHER BODY. I look at my reflection as I fade into the shadow. Fade into darkness. INTO VOID. It starts again. Falling from the sky. Cast out. CAST DOWN into another body. I look at my reflection. I’m someone else. Falling from the sky. Cast out. CAST DOWN into another body. I look at my reflection. I’m someone else. Falling from the sky. Cast out. CAST DOWN into another body. I look at my reflection. I’m someone else.

                                    I’m in a body dying on a burnt wooden cross. Surrounded by white pale figures. I gasp a breath after dying. One of the pale white figures removes his mask. It’s Tick. It’s just him and I. Then his face changes into “him”.

I fall from the sky among the clouds. The clouds darken. Lightning encompasses me. Lightning glows pale white, neon, yellow. Their faces shape into the sky. I KNOW EVERYTHING. I KNOW TOO MUCH. CAST DOWN, CAST OUT I FALL FROM THE SKY.

I hear the sound. A deafening thunder brings me back. I’m inside my bathroom. “LEAVE ME ALONE!” I am out of control. Something is forcing me. Lightning strikes. I hear the wind and thunder. Then the electricity goes out. The light of the sky is just enough for me to see. To don a mask, tight black spandex shirt, spandex pants, armor, and combat boots.

 I pick up one of the digital cameras and take footage of myself. I speak in a tongue not of my own. I pack all the things given to me by ex loves in a garbage bag. Then I place this bag in one of my old army duffel bags. I emerge into the black out and fierce storm that has violently gripped Clarksdale.

God, My LOh’Rd, seeking through   I hear someone cry for help and the joyful laughter of the three attackers. I know exactly where it is happening in this town. “God. God PLEASE PLEASE HELP ME!? God. God PLEASE PLEASE HELP ME!? God. God PLEASE PLEASE HELP ME!?”

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” I’m on the rail road begging My Loh’Rd to save me. I pick up four railroad spikes. The spikes can make this right. Cuzz’ there were four spikes put in Jesus: two per wrist, and two per ankle.

Lightning flashes, the roars of thunder rolling down.

“No.”

“Shut Up Bitch!”

            I’m at the hotel door. A couple is being attacked by three thugs. The couple are tourists from Europe. I smell cooked up cocaine. The thunder storm is so loud that no one hears their cries. The husband’s been shot. He still lives regardless of being beaten and shot. Their belongings strewn. They’ve stripped the wife nude. I tell myself, “I can’t do this.” Then something possesses me to kick down the door. One of em’ shoots their pistol over and over again. I’m doing things, it doesn’t seem to be me at all. Physically striking with the railroad spike. Bones break. I feel warm blood splatter on my mask. One tries to tackle me. I shift my weight and throw him out of the window.

“Please, please, please, don’t hurt me.” One of the thugs beg. Something inside me drives me to beat him worse.

“FREEZE, DON’T MOVE!” I see the flicker of red, white and blue police lights again.

“They’re so damn brave with their threats until they start hearing their bones break and blood flow!”

            I’m falling again. The scenes going through my mind speed too fast. I’m in these scenes flashing through my mind. I see a man about to beat his wife. She is saved when the man’s hands get nailed to a wall by railroad spikes.

            “The rats were trapped here.” I’m inside the vertical cylinder shaped cell. The ground has lit candles lined in strange shapes. “I don’t wanna’ play no more.” A cry for mercy.

            That was the only game we had to play inside those drab, cinder blocked game room areas. Built mazes on the ground out of rocks, toys, sticks, and what ever else we could find. We’d trap a rat by leaving pieces of food as bate. Would have to stay up all hours. Take turns being awake to bring rats to the maze. We’d drop em’ in the middle of the maze. Watch em scurry.

“Told you not to.”
“I don’t wanna’ play no more.” I’m alone in the cell. Rats crawling up my chest. “Feast. You better eat. Or you will die.” He orders. “No. I don’t wanna’ play no more.”

            I watched the sun come up, and the moon changed shapes for days. They wouldn’t feed me. He keeps mocking me “Feast. You better eat. Or you gonna’ die!”

IT’S NOT REAL. IT’S NOT REAL. IT’S NOT REAL. IT’S NOT REAL. IT’S NOT REAL.

-and I’m back in the intense rain.

            Coming down like nails. Lost in the darkness. Descending.

                                        “RAGE AGAINST TIME.”

            Seeing his yellow teeth project me back to the cell. Rats crawling on me with the crescent moon (God’s mocking me.) “No please leave me alone.”

                                                “YOU GOTTA’ EARN YOUR WINGS, BOY.” I GRAB THE RAT WITH both hands. Something controlling me.

“No. Please. Puh’leese. NOOOOH.” It squirms. The blood is hot. I feel the rat dying. The blood gets hotter as I rip out the rats innards. I gag. Then swallow. CRYING TEARS OF GOD.

PROJECT TO CLARKSDALE RAIN IN FRONT OF ANIMAL SHELTER:

            No electricity. No way to surveillance. I break down the front door. Set blaze to a trash can to light my way to their cages. Instinct overcomes my logics, as if there is no logic, only instinct. The dogs bark. I remember-

            Instinct overcoming logics. They squirm, I ate the rat’s souls. I had learned that if I behaved in a sad manner I would attract some who would save me. “My God?” He opens up the door. I look up at him. “NOW YOU UNDERSTAND.”

“YES.” I CAN’T STOP LAUGHING.

“BATTLE AGAINST TIME.”

“The rat turns into a bat.”

“I think your ready now, boy.” “The rat turns into a bat.”

“I think your ready now, boy.” “The rat turns into a bat.”

“I think your ready now, boy.”

I feel good. All the things that “I CHOSE” to hurt me: the drugs, the people, the situations-I’m letting it all go. There is a light. There is a heaven? THERE IS A HEAVEN. SOMETHING PULLS ME BACK.

The blood rushes from my head to my feet, like an elevator going down. I fall to my knees. Forced to. Before the Loh’RD we will all fall to our knees in one form or another.

Or another. The animals are so eager to be free. Running passed me. Around two hundred animals knocking down computers and tearing desks apart. The fire flickers my shadow on the animal shelter’s walls. Reminding me. This isn’t the real me. I’m scared. My Loh’RD, what have I done? My shadow grows contorting and twisted. Disfigured. Reminding me. This is who I really am.

A Black Dog tips over the fiery garbage can. My shadow forms into many shadows. I hear the rain reminding me. The world wind (whirl wind) comes through the door. The dogs. The last of the dogs run past the burning trash as fire circles around me.

Cold wind embraces me. Reminds me of d.e.a.t.h. Didn’t everyone always tell him. Reminds me that I’m falling.

Falling above the storm clouds. The clouds darken. Lightning encompasses me. Lightning glows pale white, neon, yellow. Their faces shape into the sky. I KNOW EVERYTHING. I KNOW TOO MUCH. CAST DOWN, CAST OUT, I FALL FROM THE SKY. With the rain striking, feels like needles. Trespassing my soul. “I don’t wanna’ play no more.” The blood. All my blood goes violently from my head to my feet. I see the Jesus. Reminds me of kneeling to the white statue of Jesus. The descent is violent. Head pounds. Hard to breathe. A figure in white walks to me.

The fire’s flames. “Who are you?” I look up at the moon and am reminded that I heard long ago that if you see God you either die or go crazy.

 On my knees surrounded by tombstones. Lights transcribe and I regain my balance. The shadows gather and form into one. I regain my shadow. I hear the animals outside. Reminding me I’m in Clarksdale. My God. The dogs are free. And God replies “Yah weh” “I am” “I am”.

Dumped the stuff in my bag out. All the items strewn on the floor of an abandoned building by the church. The Church where they love me. Found….this is insane… God. GOD. GOD. Where are you? It’s a long hallway as it always is. Analogies of decisions as the lightning continuously flashing. “I don’t wanna’ play no more.” Doing things that I can’t stop doing. A whirlwind (world wind) screams a back door open behind me. Winds violently, pass me. The black dogs follow. Sprinting toward me. All those belongings, tangible items of intense emotions “I LOVE YOU.” Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing. Wanna’ burn all the clothes, pictures, stuffed toy animals. The winds pick up the burning items. I body block broken glass from a hall exit door. The exit leads to a broken stair way. Got the gasoline. Gotta’ burn it burn it down. BLACK DOG. BLACK DOG. BLACK DOG. BLACK DOG. BLACK DOG. BLACK DOG. WHAT DID THIS TO ME?

THE DOOR SLAMS SHUT. IS THE POSSESSION GONE?

Now I know. My body steps outside-Two of me-“Mr. Holmes.” The Black Dog sits attentively between us. “The doG, saved me?” I ask myself. One part of me wears a suit and tie. “Mr. Holmes, you have to remember.”                                                                                                                                                                 Face to face, with another part of me wearing all black.

The Black Dog bark summons the memory of me opening up the lab top computer Tick gave me. When I opened it smoke blew into my face. “I’m i’m i’m i’m drugged?” The Black Dog pants calmly, as the hallway gets brighter. Feels like I’ve been hit hard in my chest when the logical part of me, wearing the suit and tie steps back inside me. Knocks me off my feet. As I watch those items I set on fire dance in the violent winds; the hallway door violently is pushed open by the mighty winds. The winds push these burning items of lost love outside.

I lay on the ground looking up at him. It is ‘him’ above me. Dressed in a pale off white glowing robe. “Once man had wings. We once were angels. When we descended from the heavens our wings burned as we fell to the Earth. Humankind is going in reverse. Remember the taste of their blood?”

Rage Against Time. Battle against time. Stand up. Step outside the hallway through the jagged glass. The black dog bites at my ankles. The rain stops. Lightning strikes, lights up the sky-time freezes. I step off of the last stair.

           

Falling through the air. Cast. CAST OUT. LAND INTO ANOTHER BODY. I look at my reflection as I fade into the shadow. Fade into darkness. INTO VOID. It starts again. Falling from the sky. Cast out. CAST DOWN into another body. I look at my reflection. I’m someone else. Falling from the sky. Cast out. CAST DOWN into another body. I look at my reflection. I’m someone else. Falling from the sky. Cast out. CAST DOWN into another body. I look at my reflection. I’m someone else.

            Saw the Vision of the “doG” every where. Through seeing the doG I believed GOD TO BE ON MY SIDE. YES, IT WAS AND IS SOMETHING I PICKED UP ON LONG AGO WHILE STUDYING THE WAYS OF TAROT. SPECIFICALLY 0-“the fool”.

The fool has a stick over his shoulder that has a bag of his belongings on the end of the stick. He’s got one foot on the ground of a cliff and the other in the air about to step off into oblivion. He’s got his head turned staring at a doG jumping on his leg. The foretelling of this card is that you are about to make a mistake until THE DIVINE INTERVENTION OF THE ARCHETYPE OF GOD IN THE FORM OF A MUTT SAVES YOU.

                                                                                                The Fool card “0” falls to the ground singed.

             Trapped inside. The church. Something’s telling me the church will save me. Run toward my Loh’Rd. Trapped, four corners of a room. Deeply breathe in all of the room. “You ain’t goin’ no where Bitch!” Then she cries, she sweats. The men attacking, about to rape her, smell like rain and burnt motor oil (residue of crack rock. I hear an infant crying in another room.

I am THE NIGHT. I DESCEND FROM AN EYE OF GOD. MY CHEST FEELS HOT. THE RAGE! RAGE. Heat SPREADS TO MY GLOVED FINGERS GRIPPING THE

RAIL ROAD

SPIKES. I FEEL THE SPIKES RUST RUN. I exhale. I stand in the middle of the bed. Strike with spikes to the mouth. Hear the breaking of mouth bones. The Loh’RD’s light flickers (lightning) teeth fly across the room. In a half a breath, I kick one of em’ in the chest. He falls to the floor. Two of em’ left. Accompanying the sound of thunder. One of em’ fires a shot outta’ a pistol. Bullet hits my spike. My spike of Jesus. It ricochets. Hits em’ in the groin. Three down. The last one flees. I throw a spike that pierces into his Achilles. Four down.

She’s frightened. Runs to her kids.

I consume myself in the darkness. Thunder strikes, roars vengeance that echoes in sirens-a police car roars to a halt. I HEAR EVERYTHING. “What the hell was that?!” With the fusion of the sounds of the law and the storm a spirit trespasses me.

            I see pain: She’s crying for him. He’s just like his daddy. Gonna’ go to prison for life. There’s nothing she can do.

            Her baby is due any second. She doesn’t want to be in that crack house. Went there, at first, following her “to be” baby’s daddy. Now she can’t stop. She used to be so pretty.

            I see the devil: She was just another chick. All he wanted was to have her body. Told her everything and anything. And in a way he started believing it enough to really tell himself they could have a life and get outta’ the hood forever-and so the cycle continues-her mamma’ was the same-so was his daddy.

            He didn’t think of any other way but to get what he wanted by means of violence. This meant sometimes beatings-sometimes killing-go to prison-get back-and do it all again.

            I attack em’ through the “Night”.

The lights in the town are out. It’s a perfect opportunity to finally do him in (kill him)!

He’s the law. Arrested him too many times to count. He knows where that scum is (can do it). Get him alone and it’ll be over with.

Dizzy- head is ringing. The blood goes to my feet. Lightning lights up the area with a Neon-pale skin Jesus-It’s a graveyard. I fall to my knees across diagonally is the last jute joint in town. THIS IS THE SEGREGATED BLACK FOLK GRAVEYARD. But it’s a dreamscape. “THE parasites feeding off of the DEAD-THE MAGGOTS BECAME THE FLIES.”

Falling from above are giant needles of glass that I barely miss by zig zagging movements. Trees are green and flimsy. My God. I am a fly. I hear a crow’s SCREACHING CAW-I am engulfed by blackness inside the crow.

            Moments later, the crow opens its mouth above the clouds in nothing and everything. I AM FREE. I AM FREE. I AM FREE.

            AM I FREE? AM I FREE? AM I FREE? AM I FREE? AM I FREE? AND ON MY WAY TO HEAVEN. A BLUR OF LIGHT FLASHES-“IS IT YOU, MY Loh’RD?

            THE WORLD CAME FOR ME. All the blood goes to my head-the light blur-I have no body as I get closer the light separates into three lights. THE RED, WHITE, AND BLUES. I AM EYES SEEING EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE. I AM THE FLY-

MY DESTINATION IS TO BE DEATH

            The fly-the maggot is me evolves into the fly. The fly eaten by the animal. The animal eaten by man.

            The flashing of red, white, and blue lights ushered in by “GET YOUR SORRY ASS ON YOUR KNEES.” The officer took the boy to the back of his cruiser. The boy was talking trash “Get your f*cken’ hands off of me! I know you ain’t steppin’ to me!” until he got hit with the butt of the shotgun. That took the fight out of him, and he started crying and begging. “Open your damn mouth!” He put the barrel in the boy’s mouth.

 In the flashing of the red, white, and blue lights their silhouettes fade in and out. And as the policeman placed his finger around the trigger-I stuck in my spike-blocking the squeeze “What the hell?” with that I pulled the officer’s head down, had the sharp edge of my rail road spike to his throat and took the rifle. Threw it aside. Then a voice came out of me that was deep tone and unrecognizable. “Get back in your car and do the right thing. Now!”

Seconds later, the law man speeds away. I hear the shot gun pumped and prodded to my back. I hear the growling of dogs. Lightning flashes and pauses. Dogs circle the me and the boy. He now has the shotgun. Keep the motion (torque), grab the barrel as I turn around. Toss the rifle aside. The circle of dogs around us growl louder. “No no no!” and the bad ass went out of the boy again. He’s on his knees. I grab his hair pull him face to face.

            We share a vision: the fear he feels with the barrel in his mouth held by the lawman. The deafening sound of the shot rings. “This is what you will live. This event. Your fear. The taste of the metal from the rifle. All of this, you will feel for an eternity. It will be your personal hell.”  Tears stream slowly synchronizing the rain. Then flow heavy.

                        “GO AND KNOW WE SHALL MEET AGAIN.”

Can I see? Or am I envisioned?

The lightning’s illumination shows them grasping for peace, in mirrors that break. Thus, their identities become scattered into jagged monstrosities.

Thwarted attempts of lootings, home invasions by shrouding the criminals in my spiritual possession left them very disoriented. Thus frightened as they had never been before.-and the lawmen had the most puzzled looks on their faces when these same criminals begged to be put in jail.

            Dogs rummage through trash cans and whatever else is available to get food. In a hour, the town becomes littered in trash.

            The water from the sky. The flashing, the thunder-With every strike I know that my Loh’Rd is allowing supernatural forces to reign. Tornadoes at the  edges of town, boxes us in. Booming and howling FROM EVERY CREATURE OF THE NIGHT.

            The Jinns possess. Thus warp human emotions.

 Sight of red (rage).The wishful thoughts of revenge against the abusive parent. Against the family member. Against the friend.

Sight of fear (dark shades). Stealing-wrists bruised by handcuffs. The angst of disappointment. The loss of innocence.

ALL GOES DARK.

“Back into the darkness. Time to  finish this.” Hair spray cans. Pour the gasoline over the gifts that exs gave me. Set a Blaze. Thus, my own light in this world.

“Don’t run away from the light. RUN TO IT!”

ACTS 10.3

            “JJJJJJJaghhhhnnnn?”

            “Call a hospital.”

            “No!” I yell. My head hurts. Looking up, at Sister Engles, her husband, and Sister Robles, my vision is tripled. There’s a dog, black dog, runs to me. Growling at the three of them.

The 1^st glimpse of the rising sun made me like I was still on fire. My eyebrows are singed. Then I remembered that I had set the blaze. “GET THE ANNOINTING OIL.” Engles’ Husband removed what was left of the mask from my head. I see my long locks attached. Burnt much of my hair to my scalp. Robles fingers the oiled cross on my forehead.-and I feel it bubble up on my brow. Then she places the Holy Hands of Healing on my chest.

I’m coherent enough to hear myself speaking in tongues. Try to get up and attack. The husband takes me down. “Move him inside.” I’m chained down inside the sub level of the church in a shallow pool of Holy Water. From many feet away I hear a police siren. Then I hear the conversation.

 “Seen anyone, or a group around?”

“No, just this dog. Why?”

“The strangest events that this town has ever seen, literally, happened this morning.”

“Yea?”

“”Yea, we’ve had reports of some sort of vigilante, or group of vigilantes running amuck.”

“What?” Engles gives her husband a forceful stare to keep secret.

“What about you, Sir?”

“We live in Crenshaw. I’m curious. What happened?”

“Someone set a fire. Almost destroying everything inside that abandoned building over there. The animal shelter was broken into, destroyed inside by fire. Also all the animals were set free. Thugs who were who were allegedly committing crimes were stopped violently by a person wearing all black; who used rail road spikes as weapons.”

“A crime fighter?”

“Or fighters, anyway, if ya’ll see anything suspicious get in touch with us.”

“If we take him to the hospital he’ll be in trouble with the law.”

“Okay, that’s true. But do you truly believe that he is possessed by demons?”

“Yes.”

“We felt alone in a vast universe, believing nothing existed beyond what our limited view allowed us to see.”-those words echo, making me further realize that I am split in two: My logical sane self, and a self being manipulated by something that’s a dark supernatural force. I am dreaming but I’m still awake knowing I’m dreaming. I’m in a Narcotics Anonymous meeting. We’re reading about the eleventh step. I know this has to be my subconscious mind repeating a distorted memory, in an effect, to cast out my possession.

Robles wipes the drool from my mouth.

“Sit up Brother John. I’ve come to feed you.”

“NO!”

“Why can’t we feed him?”

“Because it will be feeding the demon, or demons inside of him. We have to take a blood sample.”

“A blood sample?”

“Yea, you can sneak an examination of his blood at the hospital.”

I feel what remains of my long hair being shaved off. Stings horribly. I return to the distorted memory.

                        Someone in the room shares about how meditation is listening to God. And I’m looking at the room. I know if I study the room I can keep my mind here and be at peace. The chair person is at the front table. In front of him is a crescent of folks sitting in the chairs. I look into faces. All their faces are unrecognizably blurred. I continue grasping for sanity through listening. “When I get nervous at work I go into a place where I can be alone for a couple seconds and ask God to help me. And by the end of the day I am calm again.” “I just don’t know if I can quit.” “I knew I was free from my bondage when my sponsor told me that I had actually made an act of kindness without expecting anything in return.”

“I don’t know what God’s will for me. But I know it ain’t for me to kill myself by using.”

            Then I feel the pain. Open my eyes by the by instinct. My pupils are glossed over. She slipped with the razor and cut deep into my scalp.

“Brother Walker.” I see her smiling. The two rows of florescent lights over whelm me. I slowly turn my head, eyeing the details. Wooden two by fours with out sheet rock. This is the room I was baptized in. I look down at the water of the pool, I’m chained in, turning red - as it dripped slowly. The ferryman: the figure wore black robe. Couldn’t see a face because his head was down and concealed by the hood-

heard footsteps behind. Yet, it deceived my logics. Was more like nagging flies buzzing around my ears: …those creeping obsessions that keep us down in h.e.l.l.

“you’re a failure everyone hates you kill yourself there is no god no one loves you you should never have been born you are cursed you will always be alone” –these voices buzzed closer.

I

                                                Looked Down

                                    At My Feet sincerely wanting

                                                      The Loh’Rd

           to show me the way.   

            Blood came in relentless waves on the black sandy shore. The ferryman looked up and his face was still hidden by his hood. The ferryman extended his hand, wanting me to come aboard. The sounds of the voices combined with the flies came closer. I turn around and see countless flies, wasps, and bees. Thousands, millions, and a voice came “We Are Legion We Are Many”…the insects transformed into humans-

                                                                                                            HERE

                                                                                                                  EXCEPT

                                                                                                                        LORD’S

                                                                                                                                LOVE-

                                                                                                                                                HUMANS? Monsters they become the ugliness: monstrosities of sins: phallus’ as painful puss filled tails. Hands twice the size of their bodies, holes the size of potholes in their crotch region. Bleeding sores on their faces. Tongues as long as their arms.

                                    THOU SHALL NOT COVET.

            I TURNED BACK AROUND AND KNEW, KNOW, WILL KNOW TO GET ON THE BOAT. I taste metal from underneath my tongue. I remove the one day at a time coin and place the coin in the ferryman’s hand and get on the ship. Slowly

footnote: One Day at a Time chip is the first one that an addict/alcoholic receives at a 12 step recovery meeting.

                                                                                                                               the boat moves away from the shore and the sin malformed humans kept moving forward. They stepped into the bloody red water and instantly burned.

            The ferryman turns his head and pulls down his hood.

________________________________________________________________________

                                   

“Inherit The Skull.”

            I lean my head back in the Holy Water. It stings-I think whatever I was

exposed to is fading away.

            “Brother Walker?”

            “How long have I been out?” Raise my head up to look at my restraints. Peripherally, I see shadows form slowly from the corners. Moves up to engulf the gaps in the light. Then, the shadows run together, forming distorted shapes above me.

            “He” was in places I couldn’t see. “He” came back inside me through my eyes. He was in truths that I had chosen not to reveal. Hiding in the details of my life. The grimaces of disgust-the whispers I heard when I was out of my mind, out of my body, “We really don’t know if this patient will ever come back from his severe psychosis.” The eyes of scorn stare at each other-BLAMING one another for the outcome-and the first one who looks away loses.

            “Brother?” Before covered in Blackest Night with no sky, no stars. I hear a click. Light follows. A door opens. Damn, just when I thought it was gone.

“You haven’t figured this out yet?”

           

“Doctor, is it really necessary for him to be in this padded box?”

“Yes Mam.”

“In a straight Jacket?”

Yes. He is a threat to patients and staff.”

            The hearing. The listening to anything to bring me back. listening to anything to bring me back. listening to anything to bring me back. listening to anything to bring me back. listening to anything to bring me back. listening to anything to bring me back.

listening to anything to bring me back.

            A warm palm on my forehead. I open my eyes long enough for my logical self to exit. It is Sister Engles lovingly patting my forehead. He words echo, the walls around me breathe, (shrink and expand). Sister Robles is beside her.

            “What was in his blood?”

            “It is a powerful derivative that is unknown. But, it resembles a mixture of PCP and Sodium Penathol.

“Have you examined him for needle peircings.”

“It took me several hours to examine him because of his seizures. I found no needle marks.”

“Hmm?”

“Any, idea of what happened?”

“Brother John, went on a rampage fighting crime.”
“What?”

“Yea, it is all in the paper. At least twenty five victims. All were known criminals. And they were known criminals. And they were attacked by dogs and railroad spikes.”

“What?”

“There are no finger prints, and only one witness. The police found him wondering the intersection between 61 and 49. Said all he knew that he was dressed in all black. Somehow the news leaked national. Therefore, the heat is on him. Even an offered reward. They been thick on the streets now for about a week. The streets aren’t talking and crime has dropped down to almost zero”

“So, no one is suspicious of Brother John.”

“No. I was sure to leave a note on his door. Explaining how he left town for a week on vacation.”

            I been out of it for a…a week? I stare down, got an I.V. in my arm. I open my eyes wide only to be pulled violently back into the darkness. I look down again. Black smoke wraps around my ankles and moves slowly up to my face. I know this is a dream. Stings my eyes. Then, I smell sulfur. I close, open my eyes to get sucked into a rectangular shaped picture of Uncle Sam with a fanged mouth open. Inside his mouth are two gangbangers with opposing colors, aiming their pistols at one another.

            Exhale the smoke, and I’m sucking again from a glass pipe. The crack cocaine pops. Look at my hands. It is my mind, yet a different body. I’m in a basement surrounded by flashing lights, being hypnotized by a methodical bass drum. I’m trying to convince myself, “Just this one time.” “Pass dat’ shit.” He demands. I’m in another body. Of a black youth. The burning of the cocaine chopped with motor oil stings my eyes shut. I open my eyes, studying all the people in the crowd. Dancing, drinking, telling stories, gossiping, and trying to pick up that girl. My staring stops, as I become trapped by a pair of eyes. Then, I’m in that body seeing memories that aren’t mine. I’m scared. Trying to rid the fear. I’m inside the body of the kid I saved from the police officer. I’m scared that I might see it again. Those eyes looking for anything to give me peace. To give me strength. I look up to an older man. In his forty’s. It’s the kid’s uncle. Then, my soul travels to his body. I see the town of Whitmore. By the statue. By the lake-a man in a business suit giving me guns in exchange for a bag filled with money.

            The white man’s eyes are squinted, trying not to show fear. What fear should he have? His eyes-Then I’m in the white man’s body. It’s two in the morning, in the back of Tic’s grocery-Tic is giving me guns. His eyes are full of a vindictive joy-selling guns to the blacks so they can kill each other. Then I am inside Tic’s body. He’s in his teens, surrounded by others wearing the white supremacist colors. He’s crying. Doesn’t want to squeeze the trigger on an old black man, with his head half way bashed in. Tic is looking for anyone, anything, to give him an escape route. He sees a mirror on the wall. He looks at himself. I’m trying to escape-I can’t, being a reflection of reflection.  I see myself in his eyes. He sees me in my eyes.

                                                “You know why I can’t kill you.”

“Whh-wuh-ut?” I have broken pieces of barb wire in both my wrists and legs. Pieces lodged so deep that if they were removed I would bleed to death. I look down I am mounted on a burnt cross. Tic waited until all of his fellow clansmen were gone. Then he freed me from a cross I thought I was about to die on.

                                                                                    On the inside, my eyes start to open. The ghosts behind my eyes surfaces to the room.

                                                “I do believe (sigh) I am better now.”

“Well, thank God. Robles leaves the room. I look down at my feet, then my legs, to my torso, to my arms. Still am restrained in a tub of holy water. I’ve lost some weight. Robles returns with Sister Engles. “Only one way to know for sure.” She has the bottle of anointing oil. Puts it on her finger. Draws the cross on my forehead. I feel, I see a tunnel of light expanding and shrinking. As it expands, I feel something warm encompassing my body. As it shrinks-I feel a heat between my eyes.

“Brother John?” Their faces fade to a clear focus. She removes the shackles. I step out slowly and immediately almost fell. Thank God, they caught me.

“Brother John, you really had us scared.”

“Thank you, for all you’ve done.” I look around her office. The same office that she counsels me in when I had problems in life. The office with the pictures of myself and fellow church members hanging out together.

“There’s only one way that you can thank us, John.”

“I can’t do that.”