4:10 p.m. - 2007-09-01
The cut of God
Bullets fly through the sky, the day begs to end, red light signals the bend. Sifting, pushing back, elonquently falling forward to the ground. It's my first bite, since that forgotten night, such a long time...
Downward to scorching lies, upward to forgotten truths, no direction...just forward into vortex-calling.

The cuts collect, align, and suddenly I realize the masterpiece they create on tattered skin. Everysingle scar has made me into what I am, Perfectly devine, I am the cut of God.