No, I’m not pregnant, just male and sick yesterday and today. And I felt like writing something a little surreal since my mind is not all there. I caught myself staring at a chair for a couple minutes without thinking. Probably should go to a doctor……. I don’t know. Maybe.
In the morning I was fine,
But I should have seen the signs.
So it took me by surprise,
Not a cold, something else I surmised.
I stayed in bed,
wondering if I should take meds.
The thermometer said normal,
With three beeps it was formal.
Dayquil was downed,
I gulped and frowned.
The thought of eating anything made me queasy,
Even the idea of eggs over easy.
In bed I turned on Frasier,
I couldn’t do anything major.
I wrote some things here and couple things there,
But that was all I could bear.
A tickle at first, then a scratch and an itch,
The pills would come up like a son of a bitch.
I hurtled my weakened body to the bathroom,
Clutching the porcelain god with some mold in bloom.
It came and I was spent
by what my GI felt it had to vent.
I snuck a peek at what I had expelled,
A morbid curiosity at the stomach flu’s spell.
It was not what I had expected,
the color purple perfected.
I was amazed at what my body could produce,
I was expecting something like puce.
I pulled at my ears and royal blue appeared,
From my nose a complimentary color was mirrored.
I coughed and I wheezed
and fell to my knees.
Sprawling on the floor I glimpsed my toes,
Colors arranged on each toe forming rainbows.
Up my legs they swirled into pastels,
With vigor it converted cell after cell.
I slipped off my shirt and discovered my stomach glimmered,
Metals and cadmiums swirled and shimmered.
In the mirror I saw that my shoulders were leads,
For a moment I thought that I should go back to bed.
Then I said no,
I knew where I would go.
Naked, I made it down the stairs,
I would cough and wheeze and let the public stare.
I was weak.
Slowly down the stairs, I grew meek.
Was I doing the right thing? Would I feel any shame?
For that matter, what was really my aim?
But it wouldn’t last, and I wasn’t sure I would,
Letting the world see me was all that I could.
I struggled through the door and down the street,
One more block and I would find people to meet.
On State the colors swirled over my head,
I knew that soon I would be dead.
My lungs were filling and being converted,
My mind would go and become perverted.
But I was not alone on the bathroom floor,
As a spectacle to others I would become more.