Sick
I am sick. Head aches as thoughts clatter-bounce off skull and back into brain-mush. Pit of stomach sickness; bile rises, even in my sleep. Hurt sent thumping from frustrated heart to every cell.
Respiration.
Breath it out,
breath it out,
breath…you…out.
No. This does not work.
Amuse-distract with beautiful men, over and bend over, and over again. But beautiful men are not the answer, because fucking it out does not work either.
I want you. I don’t want you. I can’t have you. You can’t have me. It won’t work. It will work. You don’t want me. I don’t want you. You won’t have me. I won’t have you. I can’t forget you. You can’t forget me.
Let me go? I can’t!
Let you go? Impossible!
I am sick. You can cure me, and I think you may find I am the answer to what ails you.
Filed under: health, hope, life, love, observations, people, words |
10 Responses to “Sick”
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Oh, the constant high and lows of indecision.. not knowing if it is best to stay or wise to run. The stomach churn is awful.
Here’s to good resolution, friend.
You are a good woman. I hope you feel better soon.
As long as it’s not terminal.
If only there were a pill that could cure that ill….
That little hook that a certain set of characteristics, a voice, a smile can set into a heart,
it ought to be illegal.
May you expel the illness from your mind post haste!
sick but not dying, ill but not terminally, grey but not black… ?
This too shall pass. Whatever the resolution - him, not him - this too shall pass.
From clear intentions all else follows…