"Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why."*
-Kurt Vonnegut

The end of the
world feels like
warm cement. All
our bodies covered by some sort of god.

Everyone is a
statue now, trapped
in the form. Posed,
in a big boy pose, look mommy.

Feeling so strong
is the kind of talk that
gets you killed. Good
thing I let my fists do my talking.

Getting killed so
many times has
its drawbacks.  Some
days it's hard to get out of bed in the morning.