Monday, February 26, 2007


Cold sweat and pounding head,
Aching joints, stiff legged gait,
Slow shuffle walk, grunts and groans,
Hot flushes and sore bruised eyes,
Broken glass hack of a cough,
Blocked nose, stuffed sinuses,
A twenty five year old, going on ninety,
It hurts to talk, the lights too bright,
Feed me, rub me, pamper me,
I feel so ill, I might be dying…

Phone in sick?
Not go to work?
Silly woman, I’m not that ill!


Cocaine Jesus said...


etain_lavena said...

hmmmm......weird and wonderful:)

Brian said...

Thanks for stopping by and commenting.

I must be 43 going on 200 then. :)

miss magic said...


ish said...


Anonymous said...

It reminds me of that poem "Sick" by Shel Silverstein. I loved that one as a kid...

Thanks for brightening my day with that.

Inconsequential said...

If you have what i have JC - comiserations, this one sucks, and has for two weeks now, not looking to get better soon either...

Thank you Etain.

Likewise Brian :)

Miss Magic ? munmoime? tried to find that word...what's it mean? is it not english?

Ish - that kinda looks like a knowing lol...

Penelope - looked up that poem, it's much better than mine!