Thursday, November 11, 2004
The Burning Flames of Hell
Today is Friday. I know this because of a calendar, not because it is a special day. There will be no weekend binge. There will be no joy to separate this madness from reality. There is no horizon here.
When you look out over the walls, the sky and ground run together. Like brackish water. Today is yesterday, and yesterday is all but forgotten...gone because despite the constant rushing work, nothing was accomplished. The days, punctuated by the beating war drum, march by. I cannot see their beginning or their end. All I can see is Friday, and I fucking hate it.
When you look out over the walls, the sky and ground run together. Like brackish water. Today is yesterday, and yesterday is all but forgotten...gone because despite the constant rushing work, nothing was accomplished. The days, punctuated by the beating war drum, march by. I cannot see their beginning or their end. All I can see is Friday, and I fucking hate it.
// posted by Holden Caulfield @ 11:01 PM 
