A dark figure approached me amongst the shadows of my past. Cloaked in artichokes and had wine-colored eyes.

Sinister in design, he shattered any and every public image, logo, book, or movie that used to give me the shakes and or the creeps.

My breath slowed a bit because I was familiar writing The King of Erotica entity. This Thing wanted to take my building, yet the real temple of my building was the body that Jesus Christ coated when my Pa$tor dipped me in that cold water with my ass on his mind.

I was only fourteen years old, being
reborn through the waters of the whore. It wasn’t even real ocean water or even sea water. Not even salt water kept the
sharks out.

I was baptized in a bathtub with unfiltered faucet water. There was a reason the shark
was in faucet water. He was my Pa$tor. And there’s a reason the Pa$tor was in that water with me.

Nice photo opts and paparazzi shots. Pa$tor sets the standard; Pa$tor has a major influence over the congregation.

Chanting Pa$tor! Past/or! Pa$tor! like Mama Klump with Janet’s titties on her mind.

In mid-air he raised a semi automatic. The Thing--or It--tip toed precise steps, head just as cocked as his attitude.

The white of his teeth glistens like a seasoned General that earned his strips through the blind eyes of society.

One never knows what one or the other does in the dark so stop using Windex on his glass house and black paint on your windows ‘cause you not a bright person.
These days ask yourself…what are “they” doing in the dark.

Sitting right next to you in church, telling you what you did wrong, dissecting what you wear and how you wear it the minute you shake their muthafucking hands being nice and Godly to the common folk/Catholics.

They were on some let-me-suck-you-up, Pharoah-damn!-I-want-to-WATCH you suck my-Husband’s-dick-AND-he-wants-to-eat his cum off-your-ASS-oops-I -mean-your PUSSY, sorry-Pharoah-type B[U]LL. S-H.IT!

“You have to let go the past.”

“Why should I listen to you?” I asked.

“Because everyone else is listening.”

“You mad?”

“Somewhat, yes. To survive the things that you have take great courage and discipline. And it hasn’t broken you.”

“God made me.”

“You didn’t always think this.”

“This I know. I found my way to God without the Bible. Without it. No stories in my mind except for the ones that was told to me in church. I was yawning half the
time; I was a child. I was listening with my mind on Jackson 5 cartoons. I love Michael talking to the snake.”

He paused before me, turning me around and spreading my ass cheeks. Dabbing his slick tongue deep in my anal cavity, the tip of his tongue the King of the cavity search.

After tongue fucking me I was floating, all through the air with hands around my neck, the smell of sea water engulfing my nose, pushing out the atmosphere and I was over a ledge, my arms free and unmoving.

He stared deeply into my eyes and said,

“DENOUNCE HIM!”

“Nooooooooooo!”

And I awakened with a start, jumping out of bed as if it was on fire and realized eye was pissing down my legs, inhaling/exhaling audibly, feeling around my throat

I turned to the mirror and looked myself over. I took a bath instead of a shower.
Crying until eye fell asleep.

I didn’t worry. I was 6 feet 5, 6 feet 6 in a below half filled tub. Wasn’t going to drown.

Just had to keep baptism waters at very low levels.