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Prayer
God, I need a job because I need money. Here the world is, enjoyable with whiskey, women, ultimate weapons, and class! But if I have no money, then my wife gets mad at me, I can’t drink well, the armed oppress me, and no boss pays me money. But when I work, Oh I get paid!, the police are courteous, and I can have a drink and breathe air. I feel classy. I am where the arms are. The wife is wife in deed. The world is interesting!, except I have to be indoors all day and take shit, and make weapons to kill outsiders with. I miss the air and smell that paid work stinks when done for someone else’s profit, so I quit, enjoy a few flush days in air, drunk, then I need a job again. I’m caught in a steel cycle.