Sick
Like the flu,
Not the perverted type sick,
Is what I am.
My nostrils
Take turns:
Clogged to running.
Running to clogged.
Unscrewing the cap
Of my water bottle
Leaves me winded.
I had to rest for twenty minutes
After hauling my feeble
Bleary-eyed body
From the bath.
I crave greasy food.
The couch is so hot.
I want to listen
To Bob Marley
But
My
Stereo
Is
So
Far
Away...

07/27/2003

Posted on 07/28/2003
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