Though I have huge internal resistance and no more patience in my bone dry well of perseverance, it is by sheer determined will power that I must keep climbing out of the hell’s sinkhole which keeps collapsing again around me every time I make it to some “surface” and think I have acquired “solid ground” again.
Looking behind me, that is quite an impressive trench stretching into the past – and let me clarify that there seems to be no end to repeated heaps of internal vexation I am feeling.
I guess I can measure it now by wether or not I am actively cursing aloud – but that is pretty much the slim variance I keep facing.
Am I cursing aloud? Oh, I crossed the line.
Am I not cursing aloud? Oh, I am a marginal inch to the side.
I just have to deal with each poisonous vine and hack pieces away from tips, then turn away to hack the other ones reaching out to grab me as the previous ones regrow in their snits.
At some point, without progress, these vines have got to get weary of me and seek other nutrients.
Is there a spell caster about to return them to their once peaceful origins?
Candid Corvid Productions 