Friday, 17 March 2017

shaking fists at the world

I can feel the dislike coming in strong. Surging like a venom and running through arteries at break neck speed. The need to witness something destructive is strong today, even though that'd leave me in the wake of physical mess, too noisy to clean.
String of events most unfortunate that weave themselves into an angry skein of snarling nets, that, like gnats sting you with a fury most unrewarding in places most sacred.

Throw your hands in the air and give up on this hellish race. Limp back to the starting line and don't even try to begin, or just take a vacuum and mop and get working on cleaning the wreckage.




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