Thursday, January 20, 2011

sick,

where you crumple yourself under blankets and sleep sweaty sick sleep. and wait until someone takes pity enough to make you canned soup. the only importances are your book, cat, and vapo rub. it crosses your mind that tomorrow you will have to peel yourself from a day of nothing, and halfheartedly attempt a day of something.  the thought troubles you enough to induce another sleep.

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