it's four o'clock in the morning from within my mosquito netted bed.

the innocent cock a doodle does from which childhood stories are made no longer announce the dawn.

the call is heard every few seconds during the blackest night, answered by the entire cock population of haiti...so much so that because of my surroundings this innocent banter between friends has been morphed by my mind into the screams and callings of the souls trapped in the darkness....mind tricks and deep thoughts.

they say that if your not dead...you survive.