Thursday, January 5, 2012


To excretion
And sweat
I’ve no choice
But to deflect,
All and any inquiries
Into the matter of

To rattling cages made of rib
And all the gelatinous masses
Vacationing in, I must accept
Any and all, lack of
Comfort experienced through,
Confined in this condition, relegated
To such positions of internal anarchy

As to the removal of
Such insurgents,
A healing process works its way,
One I find to be, entirely cruel
When it comes to the rehabilitation
Of the self inside


  1. I've had the same damn insurgents for days. This is an incredibly witty write.

  2. Uggg hate being sick more than almost anything, you really stirred up my ocd. Plus I still have to try and fix that damn paw of cassie, stupid allergy paw picking cat...haha Keep your

  3. eww...i hope you feel better man...and may the insurgents get bored of your body and move on to greater waste baskets...smiles.

  4. smiles.. those are the real poets that turn sickness into poetry..smiles..hope you're already feeling better fred