I cast my gaze upon this shell— With weary eyes and shallow breaths From this cliff I once too fell, Wallowing in my own death. So cast your eyes upon my casket, And you will finally see. No longer of use—No longer attractive, Fall—fall into the sea. Falling from grace with the devil I dance, No victory—Just grief; Too far to see in the distance, —Forget me, so you could be, Free—free, from this solemn soil, Aging every part of me— Relinquishing this turmoil, Until I am finally freed.

If death were the color blue, —The sky would be a graveyard. The ocean, too. But if the sky harbored death, —It wouldn't seem so glum. In fact, we'd smile when our loved ones left. I imagine they would all be angels, flying above. —Or mermaids swimming in the ocean. I would play with them, never getting enough. I would wish my day to come, For death would be a celebration— A passing of life, only to have begun, And a tale for future generations. —But death is morose, Shrouded with trepidation, Cruel satire from God—cast on but a few. For you to breathe life again, I'd do anything! —If only death were blue.

He passed a street walker making her rounds. He had roamed the city alone for a few hours now. And what he was searching for, he didn't even know. A sensation brewing deep inside the pit of his stomach ailed him until he finally answered its call. "Hey, sexy! Are you looking?" said a woman in a hot cherry red, scantily clad, leather high skirt. Not a word spoken as the man continued along the rustic street. With the ground slick from a shower that had poured just minutes after his arrival, the sounds of vehicles splashing small puddles were the only things heard in the distance. But the streets were bare as bodies dwindled the deeper he meandered down a dead end. A howling echoed in the night air as he ambled further leading to nowhere. The sounds have all but simmered down except for the distinct clacking of boots hitting the pavement in correlation with the dimming street lights. But it didn't matter. He could see every single movement in slow motion and the stench in the air excited him, inhaling the scent trail that beckoned him to this abandoned alleyway. "Brave of you to come alone, old friend," hissed a voice in the depths of the shadows. "I'm but a pawn, Crixus, so killing me will be futile." "You haven't changed, Gannicus," said Crixus, making his way into the dimly lit haze from the light post. The grimy scratching sounds from his coarse hand and stubbled face played a harmony as Gannicus responded, "How come only now, we cross paths?" "Unlike you, I died!" A silence lingered between the two as Gannicus tried desperately to make sense of the notion. "You don't believe me?" spat Crixus. "Yet, here you are standing before me in the flesh," scoffed Gannicus. "But I was a prisoner first." "Why did you summon me?" "Okay, right to the point I see. The child—I need him." "Lucius will not let you have him. And, you killed his mother. The only way this ends for you is dea—" "—Trust me, I've been there, and I don't plan on going back empty handed!" interrupted Crixus, flexing his muscles as he postured defensively. "Lucius grows stronger every day, and he's a man possessed, driven by obsession." "Let him come then. I'll give him a tour of hell personally," scoffed Crixus. "Then this was pointless!" spat Gannicus, preparing for flight. "Wait!" snapped Crixus, reaching out toward Gannicus as he added, "We were brothers once, fighting for the same cause." Gannicus stopped then turned toward Crixus, "That was a long time ago." "And that's where you're wrong!" shouted Crixus, bashing his right fist into his left palm. "You made a pact with the devil. I made a pact with the devil. And, your fearless leader also made a pact with the devil. Why fight against each other when we can fight together?" "Did you not hear what I said?" shouted Gannicus, pausing momentarily as the furrows on his forehead wrinkled, forming a massive question mark. "That's why I summoned you, brother. Take him out before he becomes too powerful then we combine the remaining bloodline and destroy all who oppose us." "I can't," mumbled Gannicus. His head dropped and his demeanor sunk lower. "You don't know what's about to happen. We're already damned! And, that city is called AM. The second coming is upon us and the heavens will open up, unleashing the wrath of God. But that child is the only key to unleashing hell on Earth. And for the first time, darkness will prevail over the light." "But that's where you're wrong, Crixus. This child still has a choice." "What choice?" spat Crixus, pacing with much anticipated fervor as he shouted, "WHAT CHOICE? I never had a choice on that mountain. I succumbed to the blade of them filthy Romans and my soul cast down to a fiery pit where I was tortured by beasts every single day." "You were filled with such vengeance then." "And you weren't? You fucking hypocrite!" "Spartacus wanted peace, though." "Oh, I was wondering when his name was going to come up," scoffed Crixus, turning his gaze, cupping his chin as he added, "I never saw him in AM, so he must've went the other direction." "And I too was filled with hate. So yes, Crixus, I made a choice then." "Lucifer wants that kid, and he'll get him whether we like it or not. But if we turn him over as an offering, we will be kings in AM." "I came across this Lucifer. He's just toying with us. We mean nothing to him." Crixus's footsteps stopped, stifling his pacing momentarily, "You're wrong, Gannicus." He lifted his right leg and continued a slow trudge, "I was set free to find Eligor's mortal. Like the many demons unleashed from AM, we had a mission to kill her. But we failed. The bitch got away, and now we're stuck." "Weren't you just complaining about hell," scoffed Gannicus. "Go ahead and laugh, but you'll see soon enough. When I go back to AM with the kid, I'll be a god!"

Where are you now? I remember those piercing green emeralds, but that's about it. Perhaps even a smile that same time our gazes connected while sitting at McDonald's. I've gone back countless times afterward but to no avail. The reality is we live in two separate worlds. But what I'm noticing is our worlds aren't that different after all. Rather, our worlds are colliding with each passing day. And the world you belong in is getting bigger with each passing second. As if consumed by society, cannibalizing its flesh until space has become a commodity highly sought after, segregation has taken place between the privileged and the rest of us. Between those two, separation has taken place yet again from those acquiring the bare necessities to having absolutely nothing at all. At least nothing is the assumption when it comes to the tangibles of life. Of course all of which are mere trinkets, enslaving us to the privileged, devouring our flesh while drinking our blood. Our minds imprisoned by the social standards crammed down our throats by such stylish shackles, linking us to every soul on this planet. Meanwhile, force feeding us, fattening our livers until served al dente with truffles accompanied by a Côteaux du Layon. And I too once held a pact with the devil, obsessing for this need to quench an insatiable desire until finally relinquishing these so-called modern devices. As I count the seconds down, my place among the enslaved will no longer exist as I am ostracized, castrated from my masculinity. I find solace, knowing I will not be alone as I embark on my journey in this new world. Maybe for the first time, our eyes will meet without judgment or harsh criticism. Maybe for the first time, I will see the real essence of the person I've longed for ever since our paths had crossed. But am I prepared to enter into your world? I suppose no one ever is until forced to do so. Perhaps it is insanity that some choose this world of free will. Or, are the insane the enslaved, handing a stone to the next proletariat to place among that daunting pyramid, gawking down at us simpletons? I wonder if my friends will miss me or will I even care; it's hard to say when the veil has shrouded my vision for so long. Perhaps, I will witness their ulterior motives since the lifting of the veil. I have longed for a companionship to help mend these shattered pieces of shards I guard. But in the world I once lived in—I was never enough! And such is life as I trudged laboriously through the thick, bustling edifices, struggling to gain recognition by them; by her. —But to no avail! I'm just one number of many sheep corralled and prodded into the next cubicle awaiting orders. And to her, I was just a number that had exhausted its expiration date. And, so I've forgotten that evil sensation, brewing in the pit of my stomach because it was a lie—a false hope! With time, ice shielded the glass shards, forming a barrier; not even the sun could penetrate. Or so I thought. With just one glance, a ripple effect took place, and a warmth shook the very foundation of my being. I've been searching for you since. —Maybe this time, I'll finally be successful.

If I had a rose for every woman I loved, I would have a bushel or two. Fill the petals in a basket, making sure there's enough, Before I cover the ground with a few. With each steady pace, a rose petal is placed. I would never get lost in the forest. I could find my way back no matter how far I trekked, Making it in time for porridge. My name would be known as the Rose Petal Man, Who lived all alone far by the river dam. When I come into town, a rose petal would be found —The villagers would gawk at this phantom. I would deliver my goods, then off to the woods, Retreating alone to my cabin. On one particular day toward the middle of May, I came across a fair maiden named Summer. She was lost in the woods with a basket she stood, distraught over a fight with her mother. Their battle was heated. They both exchanged words. —She wished she could take it all back. So I filled her basket with rose petals Then ushered her off for this was the start of her new task. For each step she took, drop a rose petal or two —Until the basket was emptied completely. Puzzled she was for how could this solve —Their argument which happened just recently. But despite her doubts, She was off on the path with a basket filled with rose petals. Later on the air chilled, and the evening came to a close, For the sun had begun to settle. By the doorway she stood from that long walk in the woods, Perplexed for her soul was still haunted. She thought she was done from that long walk in the sun. She was famished and quite exhausted. I smiled at her and said, "Take the basket my friend there is much work, so do not be daunted. Do you remember those rose petals, do you remember which ones? Put them all back and then you'll be done." Vexed, she grinned. A skeptic within, but she left to her dismay. That long journey she walked all alone in the dark. She searched aimlessly that day. Disappointed and tired, for only a few rose petals she retrieved. —She dreaded her answer would never be received. But the Rose Petal Man smiled for what she did not know. The answer was quite simple, and it would offer her hope. "Do you remember those words that you said to your mother? Each rose petal represents each word." He said to Summer. "Try as you may to take back what was said—but your attempts all but futile at the end." Her eyes began to well for she finally understood. It would be impossible finding each rose petal in the depths of those woods. "Take heed and try harder not to hurt those close to you for each word spoken is a powerful tool. If you choose your words wisely, you will one day heal those wounds." Content with the answer, she turned back and said, "Is that the same reason you throw rose petals my friend?" The Rose Petal Man smiled and before he replied—he cried! For his emotions could not be denied. "One day she will forgive me and all that was said in the past. Until then, I am cursed each day to take those words back."