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Photo by Mathew Schwartz on Unsplash

I hate the oppressive thickness in my head
I hate the coughing and drips
I can’t read or think for more than a minute
The sun’s out, but I can barely crack my eyelids
There are things to write
There are things to be read
I’m sure there are things to do
The dogs want attention
I wish that I still had my cat to cuddle…
I hate this
Victim of a microbe
that puts the brakes on the world
and puts me on a time-out
I hate this!
Not hungry
Not sleepy
Not happy
Not enough anger to beat down this villain
so I try to write it here
My mind is a ghetto
I hate this.

Poet. Philosopher. A sense of Humor. 60 years ago I rode the winds at the top of a tall cottonwood. Buy me a coffee @

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