He searched beneath mounds of stillborn infants and forgotten embryos

He scoured the burnt earth and gazed upon an infinitely vast wasteland

He looked and looked to no end, tirelessly searching, sometimes frantically

Day in and day out he climbed mountains of diseased flesh and rotten carcasses

He dove into sewage filled pools of such foul and distasteful aroma

Crawling through tunnels of dismembered limbs even when the ground was layered in lost eyeballs, squishing with every movement.

Alone and afraid. Afraid that she had forgotten him.

He would call out her name, but there would be no response

Just an endless echoe, looping through his mind.

He would yell so loud that his tonsils would bleed.

His mouth was so dry. If only there was something to drink. Anything..

As his search for her leads him further into this hell of all hells, he finds himself in front of an ocean. It was no ordinary ocean, the smell of death had a certain way of hitting your senses. Blurring your vision.

Almost numbing you before your gag reflex kick starts and you find yourself dry heaving in a beach of bundled up pubic hair and full grown toe nails and just when you think you’ve accepted this fucking nasty ass moment, the waves come up and drench you in blood and shit and piss. Now isnt that something. I thought I was sick, this dude really takes the cake. As if love..

He finds the strength to stand up, to stop dry heaving, to lift his face out of this filth he’s stumble into.

In his head he sees only her and that was enough to keep moving forward.

To find her. Just find her. “I need to find her.”, he cries. As if begging for mercy.

As he moves onward and out of the pubic hair infested beach and shit filled riptides, he comes to a fork in the road.

Two paths. Two separate destinations.

On his left is a sign and it reads her name, “.......” in a scripted font written in blood.

On his right is a sign that reads “Heaven is this way, no more pain. You will find new love. New meaning.” Written in golden bold lettering.

As if love was worth the suffering, all the heartache and conflict attached to that feeling sickens me. Would you endure all of this to find the one you love? Would you? What if they don’t love you? It’s so one sided sometimes, the pain. The miserable feeling of rejection as you reach out your hand and she slaps it away. The guilt and shame of knowing it’s your fault, not being good enough. For messing shit up. You know, not knowing when to stop. Not being able to stop feeling or expressing. Love and pain dance so beautifully together. Am I alone in this? Sometimes I doubt love is anything more than a survival instinct. I still...

He doesn’t have a moment of hesitation. With all the relief in the world he takes a left and continues the suffering.

He faces the pain because deep down he knows it’s worth it.

He's not ashamed of the shit he’s been through, or the vomit he’s contributed to this hell.

Hes not afraid to tell her he loves her no matter whats gone down and kiss her, even if she’s covered in the blood and guts of numerous species of slaughtered animals and squashed fetuses.

Hes not afraid.

He isn’t giving up on her, he’s willing to go through hell to be with the one he loves.

Even If when he finds her she turns him down.

Even if when he finds her she’s sleeping with the devil.

I always imagined the angel of death wore black. A man with pitch black wings that droop with the weight of destruction. I would have never imagined this image of liberty. A woman of maternal love in a yellow satin gown welcoming her children home. Long curls of blond hair falling around a perfect almond face. Yet here she is, embracing me. I feel like I have known her all of my life, though I could not tell you her name. She was there behind me through every storm, but I had never beheld her face. That is - until now. Now she is ushering me home to meadows of sunflowers and fescue. She offers me a freshly drawn bath, like a child who has ceased his playtime. Heavenly scents of a mother's perfume, cinnamon and sugar, curl around her in playful tones. Her wings white, and halo unbroken, not a tear has shed from those bright blue eyes. Whatever it was I had once imagined, forever gone from my mind.

My angel whispers through the night,

My angel travels out of sight,

My angel goes where I cannot,

My angel releases soul strung taunt.

My angel wears no black,

My angel wears nothing slack,

My angel is not a bodied man,

My angel is something most do not understand.

My angel is the warmth and love of those I love,

My angel is the gentle and fluffy wings of a dove.

My angel needs no true form to take my soul,

My angel has my trust in whole.

My angel embraces me in his light,

My angel has no need to give others fright,

My angel takes me beyond my body,

My angel protects the things that I embody.

My angel takes the form it needs,

My angel takes these souls like brand new seeds,

My angel plants our souls in our desired afterlife,

My angel is gentle, like a loving wife.

My angel is as strong as any man,

My angel always, always has a plan,

My angel protects, nurtures and holds,

My angel properly adominshes and scolds.

My angel is death, the force we fear,

My angel is death, the one who causes a tear,

My angel is death, the one to help us ascend,

My angel is death, the one who greets us at what we think is the end.

Beloved

My love for you has not faltered. I have not wavered just because I couldn’t come at your call. Time slips through my fingers as water does. You cannot grasp onto water just as I cannot grasp onto time. Time has passed, last week I was a young girl, and now I awaken to find myself an old woman.

The only thing in this universe that transcends the past, the present and the future is the love that we carry with us.

But if you feel so insecure then unburden yourself of me and be free. But know that I will love you always.