I can only pray for time to stop and smoke a cigarette

She is living in a time of peace;
a happy mind unknowing of
the Valkyrie deciding which
solider will live and which will
die while the smoke takes
pictures of the stench of death

What is left of my madness when her face can only smile?

Is she beyond the sound of  
Vishnu, “I am become death,”
knowing he was a man trained
to **** without remorse because
morality has become suspended
in the name of expediency

Would she be forced to roast marshmallows on a flaming tree line?

When the time is right; gasoline,
victory; when would her mind be
destroyed by information that did
not come from her father; he never
knew when to tell her what waited
along river banks lined with spears

Will she know nihilism until the resurrection is how man lives?