crusty ring, sore and discolored
leaking
bacteria ridden slip’n’slide
swimming on dry land
spasms contort cavities
gravity dragging spirits
sinking in the murky quicksand
spinning
fictional premises flood the frontal lobe
“Am I dying?”
“Can a head cold **** me?”
“Will the Knicks be better with Jackson?”
delirium from desperation
if only to breathe through a nostril ……..