genesis

My name was never Lot. But you are always looking 

back. There were distances to travel, footsteps at 

the edge of miles of desolation, borders of barbed 

wire and high velocity rounds. I wouldn't flee the 

devastation of depravity. And It's not that I 

never left but the DMZ was too narrow. Now I am a 

faded pistol, blue worn through to rust, the brass 

shells rubbed softer than the memory of salt. And 

hammer blows are only a raising of whispers

.