Thunder's journal

[there are a few poems and abstract drawing in the journal. Most of it is incomprehensible scribbling]

I was transferred to the smuggling spot. Again. I love this job more than any other, for there’s not much to do. Just sit all day waiting for buyers, and naturally when a man’s bored and has good merchandise right under his nose (ha ha ha), he’ll give it a sniff or two. Besides, sometimes someone shows who doesn’t like our profession, or who tries to cheat us. Then we get to give that gentle someone the treatment he deserves.

Ugh, all this writing’s worn me out. So I think I’ll see if I can sniff up (ha ha ha) a bit of R&R, then I’ll write a poem.

[margin note]
Watch it dance – the world’s heaving turning,
Instants pass and answer all life’s yearning.
Count it up – the sand flying through the glass.
Slurp life down, let its pickle end your fast.
Chemicals course and satisfaction slowly fades…
Flesh enlists in ecstasy as bliss ploughs your veins,
And doom spreads its wares on your life’s cracked remains!