Letter To Home..

(Wherever That May Be)

Dear Destiny,

I am in much need of supplies. The rations of bread and water you gave me sustained me by faith alone. I've had no time to eat, our hide-out has been repeatedly barged by him, the enemy, Morale is low, and so we recreated city streets within these battle grounds. I reside on the corner of St. Chaos and Lost Dreams. Send money soon. I'm unable to pay the taxes for screams. My day job on the front lines has me begging to be shot. Weather or not, my spirits are damp as I clutch the cold, blue steals the ice in my veins. Do you have communication left? I've been forced to bring fists to knife fights when the enemy is within a 9 mm radius.

My wife, Reality, has been unable to comfort me (As you are aware, we have divorced and remarried many times). Our children, Denial and Fantasy, have been growing without fear, please watch over them if something...

It happened! I was praying it wouldn’t come to this! Religion has become a prisoner of war! God is missing in action! Soldiers of dead doves are being buried in crucifix coffins!

I now sleep in forests of mushroom clouds. Through chemical warfare I've been poisoned with truth. Help. The nuclear waste has blinded my beliefs, but given me crimson wings, Help. I wish to fly, to survey the damage, but my rags are weighing me down; chains would be lighter. Help. A terrorist group named hypocrisy has bombed our churches and citadels. Help. Can we counter with weapons of mass construction to rebuild the wreckage? Tell time he is late and fate inverted the apocalypse...

Give my regards to hope...