vagabond...

Sun tumbles down with its colossal weight. Unforgiving,

unrelenting it laughs. It laughs at me stumbling along

this dusty suffocating path. I long for rain. Rain

is all I desire. My sun-parched cracking body aches

and yearns for her moist kiss.

My weary eyes scan the heavens endlessly. Looking and praying

for relief from the terror of the sun. No trees around

to offer relief. I wander on. Vultures, with their beady eyes

circle over head, and wait. Will I survive this hellish day,

or will they reap my soul, slowly?

Nomad. Wretch. Outcast. I am condemned to this fate, imprisoned

by myself, my mind, and this burning ball of fire. Oh rain, cleanser

of broken souls? Why hast thou forsaken me? Abandoned,

in this arid land of death. I am slowly consumed, drained, sucked

dry of life. A chalice of death forced upon me.

My destiny demands this I guess. To endlessly roam the earth

never finding rain. The comforting, soothing, calming

shower. I will never feel clean, pure, or whole. Ha ha! But this

is what I know... Madness descends, and disturbs, but

never conquers. I like it here. This is home. Vagabond.