Death of a Farmer
All I ever wanted was a farm. Unfortunately, I no longer see how that’s possible given the fact that I have a bayonet lodged inside my gut. Brushing my teeth this morning, I didn’t really want to believe it’d be me today. As the cold steel enters my intestines, I find humor in the fact that you never really think something bad will happen to you until it does. I can’t even see the guy’s eyes who’s stabbing me. The brim of his hat conceals the upper part of his bearded, grime-covered face. He’s grimacing and I am led to [...]

