gtx

Dispatch from the front:

Another night at war. Fatigue is the killer. Tongue like sandpaper from smoking too much, shellacking over the grit with coffee, till my throat is sore, and the chest-knives turn when I inhale.
Staring at the screen until my eyes burn-in the view like a bad monitor.
TV, cigarettes, coffee, a pile of work.
Look at distracting boobs for a while, then back into the trenches, manning the weapons, with my implacable enemy, Work.

Wow, freaking out now. Need sleep.