burn baby burn in Magma

I burn midnight oil, at work, my mind is a malleable monster riddled with decisions to be made and tasks to complete.

I am but one man and yet I am expected to be more than one man.

Most days I cherish these tasks but lately I grimace inwardly at the cross I must bear in the face of what support doesn’t exist in my office.

To bed I go, now it is time to sleep, perchance beneath Nótt’s veil I might unearth dreams of foxes and rainbows. Perchance it will be nightmare.

To bed I go, risking it all for one sweet moment of release.