Killing Me

Work is killing me and taking my case big time. It’s banging me hard against the merciless wall. It’s slapping me every next moment; It’s hitting me with a whip soaked in salt and chilly powder, the blow of a whip is so devastating that it’s taming a tiger in me who is so reluctant of behaving in an advised manner. Work is making me feel like a punching bag people come and hit me and have there dosage of delightful pleasure. My blood is running swiftly to the head and I can experience my head has now turned into heart, and has started propelling with great intensity. I can feel every nerve wedged packed with blood and ticking every second as if the countdown to a blast. I wish the head to smashes off and with the blood shattered around I am sure it will be a lovely blueprint. The blueprint which will portrait the frustration, so sluggish, so random, so fuming. The aftermath of such an incidence is lying down calmly after the rigorous action. Wow getting f…. is really satisfying.