I was born naked and wet, 

Choking on my own tongue, 

Eyes burning from the brightness of LEDs. 

I was me but I didn’t know. 

  

I think I was afraid. 

My muscles were a boulder, pressed into the inconsistency of soft soil, 

Chaos crackling in the dark clouds behind me. 

Stumbling down a sloped surface, 

Hope’s purpose, 

Lying far ahead. 

  

I was me, but I didn’t know, 

I thank God for my atoms: 

For I would be lost had they not found me first. 

  

My first breath shouted out over the loudspeakers, 

“Give it up for hydrogen on the drums! 

And for phosphorous on the guitar!” 

My body was a roaring stadium. 

  

And now, 

Here I am, 

Lying down, naked in the mud, 

Next to burning timber, blowing smoke, pretending to be the campfire.