• To whom it may concern (God):
    Cold cloud-colored eyes claim
    "Forever," but I despise the term,
    for I have been waiting that long
    for a taste of salvation from a world
    that wants to rip and rape until
    a clay doll stands perfectly molded
    ready to rush into the burning oven
    with no glove to pull her out.

    You can go far enough to call it
    the perfect conundrum,
    for all of Shakespeare's
    "To-be-or-not-to-bes"
    never once surrender the answer
    to the question I'd never begin
    to whisper.

    Life's a rat race
    with no guarantee of cheese;
    a gimmick to keep us running
    when our palms and knees are
    glued to the ground.

    If I collapse in my inconsistent crawl,
    the last two weeks will be obsolete;
    In the time it takes to complete
    this full-time job,
    I'll shed my shirt from around my shoulders
    and shout "So long" into the abyss
    kissing the cleft of this cliff--
    there's no time to turn back.


    It's a shame.
    I'm sure you've never seen
    such a beautiful streak of sadness
    in bloodstone eyes
    echoing the embers of Hell.