Chapter 3: The Metamorphosis

I rest frozen on my knees and my head tilted toward the sky.

My eyes slowly turning white as my old persona proceeds to wither and die.

The ghosts of my past further the process to obscure my vision.

My soul desperately struggles to escape this bodily prison.

Muscles are ceasing function and brain no longer performing synaptic feats.

I’ll just pay for the actions of my sins and accept my defeat.

But what I noticed before arriving to my final moment.

Is that my soul refused to accept any forms of judgment.

What most don’t know is that the soul continues to thrive when the mind and body can’t be operated.

And in some cases the body and mind become anew and life is reincarnated.

Before I could step towards embarking on a new expedition

My soul guided me to a grand tapestry woven of past successes and malfunctions.

It was hard watching my life standing right before my eyes.

All the scars, pain, and anguish I inflicted on others; I wish they were all lies.

Suddenly my nerves produced a spark; a sign that regeneration is taking place.

In response, opaque eyes released translucent tears that streamed down my face.

Each tear I shed relinquished a sin embedded beneath my skin.

I was beginning to forgive myself and consciousness swelled from within.

My soul soon began to grow to an uncontrollable size.

Its purpose was to entrust me with a new body as my prize.

The shell of my former self slightly grew then cracked at the pressure.

The light from my soul pierced through the cracks creating luminous fissures.

After a sequence of breaks, the light receded below.

Silence filled the air and the shell appeared to be hollow.

Suddenly the shell broke, dissolving into fine powder.

And there stood a being glowing with profound power.

Inhaling and exhaling, my lungs filled with air and feeling refreshed.

I have arisen from my ashes as a phoenix masked in human flesh.

With a new life and new purpose, it’s now time to develop a new plan.

Headed toward a brighter future; guided by events of the past. This is my journey to becoming a man.

-C. Davis

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Have you read chapter 2 of Team CREATE? Check out Chapter 2: Enter the Monster, now.

Hazy Thoughts by C. Davis

We’re all sitting here confined to this large place.

Everything moving in slow motion. Our minds control time and space.

Keeping this smoke in until we can no longer hold it.

Cough enough times so we know that it’s potent.

As the smoke leaves my mouth, my thoughts merge with it.

Dispersing amongst the others, spreading my message. My cloudy prophet.

But the room is fairly clear. I can see the calendar with the Audi.

Let us solve that little problem and make the weather forecast cloudy.

We are nowhere near close to each other. The distance is distinct.

Almost forgot it was my turn to smoke. Thank god for our cerebral link.

Inhaled the smoke into my lungs to keep my mental turbines moving.

Jane is my muse. She gives me access to the answers I’ve been yearning.

Like there are nine people here. Meaning nine blunts in rotation.

Times three pulls per blunt. That’s twenty-seven pulls per person.

Now multiply that by five left-handed rotations.

And that equals every person in here touching a space station.

My homie stuck off OG Kush sitting to the North of me.

I passed the Sour to my west coast shorty so she could admire the potency.

Purple Kush smoke floating heavy on the right.

While this BC bud in my hand will have me feeling alright.

Leaning back in the recliner and kicking up my feet.

Gladly enjoying the flavor of this grape swisher sweet.

Our eyes are glowing red and the room has gotten foggier.

The clouds trying to escape the room fearful of us monsters.

We’re all down to our last remaining blunts and final two rotations.

Everybody takes fewer pulls to prolong the leafy erosion.

Mouths are getting dry and stomachs feeling the hunger.

Boy could we go for some breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Let’s start opening up these windows and watch our skies become clear.

Bodies come alive as our lungs fill with fresh air.

We’ve run out of the herb and it put a damper on our hearts.

Someone call Eden’s messenger so we can continue these happy, hazy thoughts.

-C. Davis

Read Fear by C. Davis