WORTH 50,000: DAY TWENTY-SIX - No huns in sight.

ARE ALL OF YOU AT 45,000 YET? BECAUSE I'M NOT! I'm actually at half that, which I find pretty exciting, and also pretty disappointing since I have done NO WORK WHATSOEVER on the thing I meant to be writing. My brain needs to shut up and sit down and get to work. I'll probably force it to later this week. Over the weekend I didn't write nearly as much as I needed to. And when I did it was stupid little things that don't belong anywhere, like this:
You give me form.
Sometimes I don’t think that I exist,
except for when you’re there to see me.
It’s your eyes that pin me in place
and carve me from the empty space, pulling
from the air the parts of me that you want to see.

Yup, still not a poet.

Today's picture is in direct opposition to my lack of productivity. Today's picture wants to get shit done, and black gloves are for killing.