There’s water dripping down from my face, between my chest, curves right, across my abdomen, sliding over my inner thigh, all the way to my foot, creeping under its arch, and then buried into the ground as I step toward the mirror, to myself, staring into my eyes, intently, searching, attempting to find that inner something make an appearance, a debut, to prove it’s not my fault I’m an arrogant bastard who knows nothing expect how to ruin any gay folks’ evening with depressing stories and obsessively vulgar language only sailors should hear on the high seas. I am an explorer, seeking the greatest excuse to act foolish in the presences of even the most sophisticated individuals. Gazing far into my eyes, I am on the verge of unearthing this justifying discovery, the discovery of the devil working within the confines of each man and each woman, constructing sin and letting it eat the host’s soul till it is a hollow tree with a mouth hallowing toward heaven sintanic creeds, seductive verses persuading small children to abort ignorance, murder their innocence, and allow themselves susceptibility to the outside world, in turn infecting them with their first disease, sinfulness.