"Vessel"

When you run from the storm it eventually catches up to you. A volatile masterpiece that eats away at your conscience. Pardon my dysfunctional ways of expression, but I am persistent with a voracious appetite. Caving in to the anesthetic, I am paralyzed by the burning in my chest. A pure deterent if you will. Why does your brow pespire? Why does your pulse grow rapid and your heart beat heavy? My sacrificial lamb. I wait and ponder as the waves come crashing in. Did you know that when curled up in fetal position, even the stones cry out for you? My heart races towards the sun. Searching for a vessel to carry my spirit into the cave you call your womb. Behold. The product of our reflection. Still I cannot grasp the wisdom of the universe. But look. The remnants of your self indulgence have finally consumed you. You have been snared by the fruit of your lips. A serpent that weaves in and out of the web you call your existence. Just because it was done in the dark Doesn't mean the eyes weren't watching. The seeds of your harvest shall be revealed, good or bad. Who ever said that we walked with the angels? Not I. The good news is God has a plan for you. The bad news is, so does the Devil. The choice between fire and water, mountains and volcanoes, doves for a snake and a truth for a lie. Every word spoken has an effect on your life, so beware of immediate gratification. It may look and feel pleasant but in the end it is cold and bitter. Draining you whole until nothing is left except a shell of your former self.

Carley Coma (of Candiria)

Photo: John LaMacchia