trauma

The tears of all your angels, so cold...

A shitload of break-bulk freight at my job yesterday. Billing all that shit really puts a strain on your hands cuz you're going non-stop. Especially if you type extremely fast (I type 220+ wpm) I still feel it this morning, and tonight is going to be all-out mayhem. I hate office jobs, especially in the freight business.

Pic of the day for the end of...
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Que chingados es esto?! (what the fuck is this?)

Something I dug up out of the archives....poems, songs, stories and crap:

"Malignant"

I see myself but it's not really me
All I see is the enemy inside me
How the fuck can this be?
How did I let it go this far?
All I really needed was just a bit of encouragement

I sleep in...
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I returned. Let's see how long I'm around...