Aug 7, 2014
The Ache
Aching, oh the aching. The gnashing teeth in my ear echoes as static. Pumping blood drains into the southern floor. Linoleum reflections burn into my retinas, overwhelming the cone. Burning, glass suns scorch the strolling black drones. Drone ants forced to please the rabid and hesitant sheep whom give their precious wool. Haggling sheep bite at the drones' appendages as they present their treasured wool. The drones flurry around the sheep. Aching, oh the aching. My aching, aching feet.