Writing - Page 6

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Run For Your Life



The single bead of sweat that ran down my temple was milk white. I wanted to flick out my tongue gecko like to taste its acrid android bite: final proof that I was just a collection of soulless cells - animated slime - a simple denizen of Dawkin’s Darwinian dicksweat…well.

Chemical warfare: my fucked dial downs fighting the icy chimerical ups - insomnia overseeing the minds grey trenches like a vile emperor. But still still still I worked. I was so happy to be Pavlov’s yapping dog or maybe Skinner’s rats pounding for reward…yes.

My legs milled the tread, lungs processed air. I was alive and that was it.