November 24, 2003
Soft flakes of Kleenex filled phlegm litter my desk, clutter my thoughts as cotton masks my sight. The coldness creeps up and licks my face in icy teases and I crave a hot melt in waters of relaxed joints. Wrinkles fold into each other and scars of ravaged age push up against smooth skin. A sparkled bauble aches my eyes and blackness soothes the perception of comfort. Voices rumble and are unable to focus across the foggy chambers of my head and I crave release from the dry hacking cough of a cracked and blood soaked lip. Sickness consumes me.