Tuesday, February 1, 2011

What The Hell Is Wrong With Me?

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    I'm miserable when I'm sick.

    I know when that shit is coming. It's like a dark cloud on the horizon. What is that? My nose burns as if someone put out two lit cigarettes in them. They burn, they itch, the burn much more, until my eyes turn into two lumps of hot charcoal briquettes. Then the sneezing and the headaches begin. I instantly take a pain killer and make tons of tea. Gallons. I'm not fucking around. I'll drink my weight in tea within the hour.

    Then the weakness, the body aches, the chills. It's time to go down,  and I do. I give the fuck up, but only for a few hours. I try to sleep, but my nose runs in both directions. Forward, they pour out onto my face and pillows, leaving me sleeping in a pool of snot.  If the sinuses drip in reverse, I wake up with a sore throat, many times without a voice and nausea. It's a rough ride for me for the first day of the real symptoms. The day prior is just a nuisance, the day after, that's when the real fun begins.

    Yeah That's when the little devil comes out, and I prove to the little microbes in my body that I care less for my life than they do. They're having a party fucking around with my functions, screwing with my immune system, and causing them to go on the attack. I get the battle that is raging in my body, so what do I do? I'm God of this stack of mud. If I was a football field, I'd cause it to snow.  Yeah, that's right. I turn up the volume.

    I get out of the bed and get to work. I work on cleaning and writing and anything else I can do to push my body. This, they say, actually weakens the immune system. I understand that. But as our football coach used to say when the players began to bitch about the falling snow, "the opposing team is on the same ball field." This is so true. So if my immune system is weakened, so is the enemy microbes. And if they are knocked down a peg or two, all this chemical shit and this tea shit that I keep taking in can also kick ass. And it does.

    That's the cool thing about it. You'll feel both sick and better sooner. I mean, already, I'm doing much better. My sinuses aren't burning, but the body aches are still present, so I hit up more pain killers. See? Just throw your pharmaceuticals, and grandma's old recipes at it now. They'll all work because the microbes, the Tide Walkers-the Shit Talkers that they once were when they jumped the body in the first place are now not so tough. Fuck them.

    So now, I'm feeling much better and can blog, as you can plainly see. I'm still listening to the door though. Lately, the crows outside have been very active. Very. They drive me crazy in front of my door. Constantly talking, laughing, yelling. And now...now there is some strange knocking. Soft, unmistakable knocking against the door that makes me stop and send chills up and down my spine. What the fuck? Who the fuck could that be?

    Soft knocking. Low to the door. Three soft times. Rap, rap, rap. And then its gone. Sometimes it happens when they are outside, yammering, and other times it's just quiet out there and yet, still there is the knock. Even at odd hours of the night. Raping on my door. I want to snatch my door open but I fear who I may find on the other side and what they would want. What if it's some crazy ghoul who wants to rush into the apartment? By not ringing the bell, it wouldn't draw the attention of the neighbors, and if fast enough, can crush my consciousness before I can yell out.

    Then it cuts off my feet and hands and pulls the long bones straight out of my body, masticating them in their teeth, swallowing the brittle pieces, marrow and all. Then rolls me over on my stomach and tears my skull, spine, ribcage, and pelvic bone from my back and bag those in a bag of dried flesh for later digestion. Then my entrails go into the microwave to be cooked thoroughly and kill the stink of internal organs. That mud pudding goes into another flesh bag and then it leaves, wearing my skin like a long swallowtail coat. The only things left over are my hands and feet. They're just too hard to eat because it's mostly bone and not much meat.

    Naaah, I'd rather keep the door closed and let sleeping dogs lie.

    Besides, I'm still sick. Uggh, I think I'll go lay down a bit.

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