Unstoppable, this is the mood, but yeah my back still hurts. Why can’t the air be cleaner when it’s so warm, and why, when it’s cooler, do my lungs still feel polluted?
Hold yer horses, work is precious but only a means to an end. Relax every once in a while and take the time to regain consciousness. Do you listen to me, at all?
The sun presses on my plagued skin with nowhere to go. I feel as tormented as a bull in an arena, if those bulls still feel at all, or in fact especially if they don’t.
Steamy dripping sweaty palms feel how their own pulse rapes this interpretation of the realist dimension, leaving behind those dreams of honor.
Calm, fitter, healthier. Like a pig, in a cage – on antibiotics.
I’m hungry, and unstoppable.
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