I wrote this a few days after I fried for my third time.  Its about a 
trip I had at a friends house.


I open the door
And step outside onto the porch
The torrential rain pours down
Attempting to drown the world
Bill's back yard has become
A Floridian swamp
The great weeping willow
Has become a cyprus tree
With great dark murky streams
Flowing away
The bleak grey-blak darkness
Inspires depression
And heavy-heartedness
Yet it doesn't touch me
OUt of the darkness
Like a slowly growing cancer
Appears the Reaper
In his canoe
Slowly yet inexorably
He approaches
Poleing his canoe like a drifting shadow
Growing Nearing
Coming for Bill
Bill says "the tree is dead.
Skeletons hang from it."
I look at the willow
And the skeletons appear
Hanging from teh branches
Then with a flash
The tree and skeletons and Death
Dissapear
Thousands upon thousands
Of naked people
Crowd my vision
Like a giant slave block
packed together
Like animals meant for sacrifice
Now its gone
The tree has returned
Its cold out here
Although I can't quite feel it
I'm going inside