[B]ig [D]rug [O]ccasion
i hurt in my ankles. i hurt in my shins. in calves, quadraceps, and hamstrings. i hurt in every fucking muscle in my feet. my hands and wrists hurt, forearms too, and even a little thread of muscle in my biceps. i got out of bed and made it to the kitchen before having to consciously relax my shoulders, causing the entirety of my back to squeal in protest. the little muscles at the back of the hips - they're hurting. they contract in protest to yesterday's activities and swivel my hips back too far, so i feel like i'm giving birth through my spine.
but. i kept your drinks cold.
i stole your mustard for my own quad-sausage scoffing.
i was the mysterious force producing cans of ted and rolling them down the chute.
i was the little black-clad cog that kept your world going, for one day. grinding and grinding and grinding away all day (4 hours), and now i'm ground.
but. i kept your drinks cold.
i stole your mustard for my own quad-sausage scoffing.
i was the mysterious force producing cans of ted and rolling them down the chute.
i was the little black-clad cog that kept your world going, for one day. grinding and grinding and grinding away all day (4 hours), and now i'm ground.