It is always 3:15 somewhere And someone is always Writing, loving Fighting, birthing Dying, smelling Wondering Wondering what it is like for someone else's slice of time Is their slice of the pie Bigger or smaller Can I just rent my soul or Does working there mean my Soul has been bought? Soul-payments Perfect handwriting Swoops of ink Signing away your life Signing away your self But is the means worth the end If at the end you can Only feel pain? The pain starting To solidify First the shoulders Neck, slowly all the muscles Harden Preparing the heart to Harden The shell that a Soul cannot abide Shell can it be shed When the goal is achieved or is it a permanent condition Like a hole in your tooth A silver filling Or maybe gold And a diamond incisor To complete the look And I wonder if They have a dressing room in hell
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