If Purgatory Sold Tacos

Desert coils around the city

like a viper crushing the life out of its pray.

Nowhere to go.

Nowhere to escape.

It’s better to accept what time remains

than fight to the bitter end.

I’m lost in this world.

A city of my own choosing.

Alone.

Afraid.

I sleep when I cry myself to it.

But not enough tears to keep me in slumber.

The people I know here are addicts and adulterers.

Friends of Jesus.

But I am no messiah.

The viper squeezes tighter.

I stopped fighting long ago.

I want to leave.

I need to get out.

But in purgatory there’s nothing to do but wait.

The addict is happy.

The adulterer is too.

I must have done something truly evil

to be left in the state that I’m in.

Depression follows me wherever I go.

Sometimes I can outrun it.