It wasn’t the beautiful peace dove that soared above my mental cloud prior to the catastrophic storm. It was the presence of the crow here tonight that loomed, waiting like a vulture for my demise in a small four walled, white room, overlooking a paradise that was not intended for me. The storm that was to drown out my dreams of consciousness and revive a subconscious nightmare embedded in the roaring tide took control, smashing crimson into the pale sands. My fall into the black abyss had begun surrounded by apparitions and the failed souls who once inhabited this den and the lonely departed who no longer wished to hold hands. They’ve traded happiness for isolation and self-hatred. Miss Misery, yes, she has come and gone. Pulling at my limbs until I said give. We are on an adventure of self-discovery through violent hymns and melodic verses. In each attempt may they be adorned regardless for their efforts made through the poor, abrasive concrete decisions or the smooth ride on freedom’s carpet velour.
© 2008 James Kelly Evans II
