Spiritual Gangsta

I am stranded on a moonlit highway
Awake in a dream exploding with holy.
An old man shot like Ernest Hemmingway.
Bleeding colors that clot and ripe slowly.
I am baked in God's oven with plump love.
Metalallic roasting and burning rubber.
The mist in the air is white as a dove.
Nostrils flaring as they smell gunpowder.
It is quiet, I am absent from light.
Beezelbub hisses in my bloody ear.
He is roaring with suffering delight.
A lion feeding on my fleshly fear.
I crashed into hell and found a heaven.
I depart faithfully, blank perception.



"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me." Psalms 23:4