Tuesday, February 3, 2015

Blizzard Flu

Fat lymph nodes call for tea,
sucking on Werthers slowly.
Brown washcloth across foreheard,
wake up in sweat-soaked bed.
Pale face, no makeup on.
Will to move completely gone.
Eyes droop, curl in ball.
Make yourself tiny, make it all small.
Baked potato on snowy night.
Soak in the bath. It will be alright.

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