A sandstone well in the oasis of an urbanization
fits impossibly precise to the brick shells strangers call home.
I draw from that well, pulling muddied water
soiled from the community’s negligence and I drink some.
Each sip brings me closer to an exorcism of the demons
I cannot fight, fear is formless, and heated ropes sear my hands.
Again, deceit passes my lips entering a chamber of secrets
and it floods, unfortunately, my demons know how to swim.