The Wax Conspiracy

Earn a dollar, make some money, don't go to work

Relatively speaking of course. And it's all relative when there are particles in the air, lingering between the first and the last. Pace out a quick turn of events and watch on as the stocks devalue themselves with the enthusiasm of a collective unknowns, skinny from the fear of waking up another day looming dark with nothing more than the despair and shadow of death.

Payment is made in full and there are no more chances for refunds. Once in, all in and the pot collects with no discrimination or hesitation. There are others starving in the world and it only takes an empty mouth, laden with sand and crab grass to undo all the good work.

Take it easy and relax. There's always the prospect of having less than before. That's the kind of thinking which brings the people together, even if the means denote otherwise.

Two sides to each wager, and to each side of the coin, a shiny reflection passes between the cold hands and bony fingers. Triggers on the go and away it all flows. From the sea, and to the edge of the break, where the change rustles and jingles.

Work is for the foolhardy. Work on the lands, where the hands break and the skin tears from the sheer intensity of waking up for another day, readying up for the long and hard path where there is nothing more than the promise of losing everything.

Ethan Switch

Written on Wednesday, 30 May 2007

The Wax Conspiracy

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