Sta.sh
Walking alone in this desert,
sucking on the bones of my past.
The marrow of mistakes stuck
to my gums and the diamondback knows
my guns are empty.
We both hear the cactus laughing.
I pretend not to.
Somewhere, a coyote licks it's teeth.
Am I dead? Will I be dead soon?
The thoughts interweave
like Native stitching.
What will be there where I go?
Is there sex in heaven?
I can't smile from the heat.
I think of hell.
I fear it is
worse than this desert.
I see no water, but
I do see my father.
He sits on a rock
and refuses to look at me.
He plucks ugly at
the three strings left on a
battered guitar.
I walk past him in silence.
The sun...blinding white.
My soul so black
that I can see the bones
through the skin of my bad hand.
My good hand was
shot clean through days ago.
I'm not sure if I stopped
the bleeding.
I fear to check.
How many days is it, now?
My thoughts are mud
and they...my only moisture.
I wasn't given a canteen.
I see dust in the distance. Human dust.
The Buzzard and Crow
will have to wait to befriend me.
I push on.
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Is it bad that at a second while I read this Breaking Bad (tv show) came to mind. Don't mind me, I am weird! This is really good!!!!!
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>..hahahaha>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
also, why was your dad sitting on a rock, refusing to look at you?
i like it, dreamlike. abstract, like your visual art.
Well, the reason for the character's father to be acting that way ( of course, he is some type of hallucination )....I left open for interpretation purposely. I did make this intentionally surreal and dreamlike....the wandering thoughts of a man betrayed, by himself and others, near death.
The fact that it begged more questions to be answered, is a good thing.