Wednesday, March 21, 2007

#332: March 21, 2007

I've got to cheat tonight, for I am sick.
My sinuses have knocked me on my ass.
I hope I will be feeling better quick,
and moving to the front spot in the class.

My head is stuffed with mucous, you can see,
and though I blow my nose, nothing comes clean;
My friends are getting worried about me,
and don't know what this rank illness could mean.

My brain is fuzzy, thoughts are imprecise,
and all that's constant for me is my pain;
so please bring me a washrag and some ice,
and let the cool drops sprinkle me like rain.

Tomorrow let me rise up from my bed
and stuff some ibuprofen in my head.


Sonnet Boy said...

I'm not kidding--today was one of my most ill days of my life. I feel terrible, I look terrible, and my head is going to explode. So anyway, that's why the poem is shitty today--I just wanted to get SOMETHING down. So sue me. ;)

ThatGreenyFlower said...

Brave work, SB. You did see your doctor, right?

Sonnet Boy said...

Yes, I did--bacterial respiratory infection. What really stinks is I had planned a long weekend in Dallas this weekend, for a horror convention. I hope I can still go.

missustool said...

Yikes. Feel better.