I slay me.

I slay me.

down to seep. I play the Slord my soul to keep. If I die befoul I wake, I play the Slord my soul to take.

Almond." I fell face forward into the gutter at the conclusion of my drunken prayer. In my mind, I was coherent. I just couldn't speak anymore. Would my Slord forgive me?

Deep inside I knew I wouldn't be forgiven for this mess I made of myself, but I could only hope. It wouldn't be fair to simply knock away redemption.

I swallowed down the pride and angst that rose like bile in my throat, and knelt before the cross. I wasn't religious, and part of me felt that I never would be, but I had lost so

much already, and I needed something - anything - to prevent that from happening again. I clasped my hands together and whispered, "Please, Father,

"Oh alright, no problem,Iguess."

He blew a puff of smoke in my face which I stupidly let up my nose and into my lungs. There was something in it and soon I began to

dance. Not any ordinary dance, but the dance of the seven veils. The smoking man laughed, watching as I writhed and flung veils hither and yon. Then I tripped and fell off the side