This is who you are trading against.

There will come a day we will simply be tired of winning... Like lifeless bodies washing up on shore, gorged with the watery dilution of communal expression- Nothing solid left to evacuate. Kneecaps flattened into smooth plates carrying the heavy burden of failed ideologies and nervous diarrhea. Palms worn down- paper thin, transparent and warm to the touch. The flies keep me awake- crawling to and fro at the top of every hour. Toilet to desk- The hero's journey. Until this day comes, We must stay vigilant Hold fast hope and keep holes warm for our grand Exit.