I lay in the false bliss of the burdening sun. God has no sympathy for me. The universe was not planning for me. Abortion is not known in the perfect design of the milky way. I am the daughter of a vodka soaked dream. I am the child of a worn out field worker, who faints in the beat of the evil sun into a meadow of browning corn stalks. I have lived in the womb of a woman who's intestines have over filled her uterus. Choked for 8 and a half months by strings of flesh. Oh woe is me! Find my way to everlasting joy, where rivers flow wild and naked prepubescent boys and girls fill the void of pupils! Memories of the absences of pubic hair and jumping feet fill the minds of those who have given up in the hopes of finding life, mistaking this world of hell and death for love and fulfillment. I ask for God's best but value his worsts. Indifference will be death welcoming me with open arms and black patent leather gloves where I can no longer tell the difference between the darkness of my room and death himself. And I will go! I am gone!