The kind of sick That books describe As green, Ghostly skinned With red rust noses.
Sick to my stomach Like when you wake up At 2:00 AM And realize that Something Is Not Right Before you sprint Down the hall To the bathroom And ***** pizza bagels into the Pristine marble sink.
It made me sick like When it gets so bad that Blowing your nose hurts Because the extra soft Kleenex Have scratched your skin raw Over And Over Again.
It made me sick When I realized That it wasn't you that I loved But the feeling of being loved.