My eyes have grown too tired to read anymore my book which is quickly growing less engaging.
As the babies continue to scream and roar from fear and ear effected by the altitudes a varying.
The massive lump of a man 'longside me reeks of a day and half's travel by camel all the way from Jordan.
And my phone now, the only relief left to me, is fading faster than myself for it's charger ne'er got in.
If I only had my chewing gum left in my laden bag lofted thick and high in the turmoil of being Paddy Last.
I'd wind the wind out of my popping ears and sooth the pressure of dissent in the compact cabin dropping fast.
Nurse Ratched is on the ward and would love to throw off the children and their mammies too.
Her cold gray eyes that hear the pain of youth and soaks in the high pitch as if it was mountain dew.
Is this the feeling the cattle have as they travel o'er the road to the Bandon Mart shoved tightly in a trailer cold.
With the urge of release while propped next to a brother and taste the odors of the others and fart and burp so bold.
Ah, but to be a bullock now with none of the reasons to wait till your journey be at end.
I'd let go the pain and flush out the strain as free and feckless as a bird before the wind.
Mise le Meas, March 7th 2011 on a smelly, noisy, packed AA flight from O'Hare to Fort Worth.
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