I can feel,
Everything.
The bitter sandpaper coating my throat,
Oceans of mucus and snot,
Pouring down my sinuses,
Bones aching,
Head aching.
I feel aged,
I feel weathered,
The tread of my sole’s gone bare.
Yes,
I know I don’t have the same energy,
And yes,
You’ve made it very clear that I look like hell,
I put little effort into this,
Ensemble.
My bed aches for me as I ache for it,
Soup is my ambrosia,
Water my nectar,
Can this day just be over?
Please.
