And then, the Universe went all "Biblical" on me... what is it with that old book?
I mean, yes, a rain of fat horny toads. Floods. Lightening. Thunder. Hail coming down on my head like a fighter squad of sharpened lead pencils. Pestilence. Blood terrors. Nightmares.
Pricks and Kicks from every corner. Little hungry mouths chattering at me. Demanding attention. Shit. Piss. Tears. Blood. Mucous.
The wind rose up, the sky parted. A chilling breeze on one side of my head, a humid stain on the other. How is that even possible? Divided. A divided land.
Dark thoughts. Strange premonitions. My only refuge. Music. Sweet music. Soul, Jazz, Folk, Rock. R&B. Funk. I lay my head down. And pray. "Please don't let the music stop..."