Category : Notes/work

Sub Category : N/A

Grease stains formulate upon a once red and white stripened shirt. 
Sweat ovulates upon his brow, slowly dripping towards his core. 
Meat party, meat party, meat party..
That's all he see.
Over and over.
Raw meat party.
Cooked meat party.
Raw meat party.
Cooked meat party.
As the minutes turn into hours, the hours to days, the days to weeks, the weeks to months, and finally the months to years, his motivation and devotion to his workplace gradually diminishes.
Their must be more to life than frying meat.
Meat.
Flesh.
Once protected by the skin, kept alive by the organs.
Patty.
The burns he receives is the universe fighting him back for what his work has become.
Yes lucky.
He knows that, 
For he is the one whom holds the spatula and has not became the patty.