Sick sick sick. I am under par for the healthy course of life. I am unwell, ill (in not such an 80s sense). A Storm advisory for being under the weather. Not completely a hundred percent and falling. Performing below average, ailing in a poor healthcare system. I think you get the point if not just stuff your lungs full of rancid pudding and youll will.
The head hurts, the fingers are numb, the joints in my body ache, the throat raw from vomiting, the back sympathizing with the throatmy boat may be sinking but I am not giving up the captains seat just yet. These prirates are raiding my immune system and taking no hostages'fuck, how many metaphors must I stuff in to this journal?
I want to thank all of those who have wished me well and I will be back on my feet soon. My vacation began today and though I didnt want to spend it in bed I am happy to just the same. oh, ROBOT CHICKEN ROCKS!!! For those new to me a little treat:
ONCE AND A WHILE
once and a while the skies cover up the pavement
and all that's left are the faces.
when the pavement vanishes
all that remains are the voices.
not everyone can fly
nor can we reach the great heights
some of us just have trouble getting out of bed.
the veins dried up over the long winter
dust fills the streams.
the trees have left us nothing to sustained on
the animals have taken our breath.
and for a while, once the stars fall
the lungs fill to capacity
but there are no muscles to push the bugs out.
i can imagine wings gently beating cold flesh.
the difference from being eating alive and warmth
is great.
i get confused over what is fake and what is a dream
the cardboard backgrounds usually helps distinguish the
difference.
aerodynamic now, but i feel like i am covered in
cement.
the hair smells of peach ginger
the eyes are of fading embers
the moisture is tears.
none-the-less the dust begins to pump again
the outer lay breaks away and drift into orbit
the wings are solid now and the dreams are all paid for.
no need for flesh when it is replaced by bark
my muscles flow like roots.
i may look funny, but i have been told i am
beautiful.
concrete semantics have trouble weighing down the words
modern rhetoric is too slow to win the race
in the near present, i will push over the cardboard
that makes up this town
for once and a while the mist can reveal all
the mysterious things.
The head hurts, the fingers are numb, the joints in my body ache, the throat raw from vomiting, the back sympathizing with the throatmy boat may be sinking but I am not giving up the captains seat just yet. These prirates are raiding my immune system and taking no hostages'fuck, how many metaphors must I stuff in to this journal?
I want to thank all of those who have wished me well and I will be back on my feet soon. My vacation began today and though I didnt want to spend it in bed I am happy to just the same. oh, ROBOT CHICKEN ROCKS!!! For those new to me a little treat:
ONCE AND A WHILE
once and a while the skies cover up the pavement
and all that's left are the faces.
when the pavement vanishes
all that remains are the voices.
not everyone can fly
nor can we reach the great heights
some of us just have trouble getting out of bed.
the veins dried up over the long winter
dust fills the streams.
the trees have left us nothing to sustained on
the animals have taken our breath.
and for a while, once the stars fall
the lungs fill to capacity
but there are no muscles to push the bugs out.
i can imagine wings gently beating cold flesh.
the difference from being eating alive and warmth
is great.
i get confused over what is fake and what is a dream
the cardboard backgrounds usually helps distinguish the
difference.
aerodynamic now, but i feel like i am covered in
cement.
the hair smells of peach ginger
the eyes are of fading embers
the moisture is tears.
none-the-less the dust begins to pump again
the outer lay breaks away and drift into orbit
the wings are solid now and the dreams are all paid for.
no need for flesh when it is replaced by bark
my muscles flow like roots.
i may look funny, but i have been told i am
beautiful.
concrete semantics have trouble weighing down the words
modern rhetoric is too slow to win the race
in the near present, i will push over the cardboard
that makes up this town
for once and a while the mist can reveal all
the mysterious things.
VIEW 7 of 7 COMMENTS
I like me some Robot Chicken!
i'm starting to get sick, i think. my throat hurts a little today still.. though not as bad as yesterday. maybe that means i wont get sick for real. knock on wood, of course.