I can taste salt in my mouth. All the sweat and the grime of working in the sun runs down to my mouth and in. I can taste salt in my mouth.
Spit.
Keep working.
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I will make you cry tears of blood. Get ready to be depressed.
Dance in the Full Moon
O, the Frailty of Memory
Pride Goeth Before a Fall
Hindsight
My Serial Mistakes
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This is Your Fault
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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
This reminds me of clearing brush for my horses' pastures and haying and stuff that I love and miss, so I find this rather wonderful.
ReplyDeleteWhat was your inspiration? Was it happy?
Not really. Sometimes, work is something you do because you have to.
ReplyDeleteFigures.
ReplyDeleteI agree with robby. That is generally the way of it.
ReplyDelete