

Illness is slowIn the morning it is the difficulty I find in waking— And how my blurry vision lasts so much longer than it did Yesterday, or last year.Illness is slow
In the afternoon it is the heat in my face And at night it is the numbness in my fingers and toes. They tingle now— ice pricks against my nails and the whorls of my finger-pads.
I wake in the pre-dawn hours And my clammy hands shake and shudder while I breathe in soft sobs and tear at plastic pills with my teeth. until they lie ripped to shreds
And still I am not fixed.
On the third day it is the prick of pain &nb
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Jay P.
peeace
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love.... ELLOIsazdfTTTT%TTTTRT
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