Sick Days

Sick Days by Jack A.S. Dunce I moved my tongue around from cheek to cheek As I awoke from shallow, restless sleep. My mouth a dry sunbaked dead desert creek Into the entire throat it crept down deep. I sat up on the bed, a sulking heap. Whatever ailed yesterday stayed behind. From numbing limbs, all moisture seemed to seep; Almost a gallon drained, yet parched as rind. My stomach sloshed about when I reclined. A spit of water spilt back to my mouth. I bowed, conceding that I'm in a bind, And the dismissed headache whirled my world south. ©️pgmr 12/14/2024 *Inspired by events of 10/15/2024