Morning Sickness?

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.


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