i was in the foxhole last night, watching the world come to an end inside a toilet, as i purged ghee and chicken grease and the parasites they washed out, like an oil slick surfacing plastic bottles on the shores of the mississippi. bottles that looked like dead worms on fire.
every moment i laid back down - 2:46am, 3:21am, 3:47am, 4:15am... - i burned inside like los angeles, 1992, every part of my insides rioting, at war, setting the trash i'd been stuffing in my body ablaze.
after the 13th time in the bathroom, i prayed, made promises and pacts with the Essence. i prayed for another chance, to get me through this self-immolating body.
i keep getting second chances, keep forgetting that i am alive after a near death. forget that i prayed and asked, and that i might've been heard, that i have another opportunity. i forget that i am engrossed in opportunity, that i have shed, and for brief moments watched myself from heaven and hell and asked to be reinstated, to get it right this time. i swear, i tell the One, i will get it right this time.
humility departs like promises in heat, that climaxes with the morning sun and clothes. as soon as i regain enough strength i am beating my chest, strutting like a cougar in the jungle, rampaging through my days without a pause.
after i puke the slick of my insides, i came as close to the One as mortality can bring and i asked for strength.
i was reborn today, back on earth with a new opportunity, a greater humility to live the promise.
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