Illness Conceived Poetry

Feelings of a Rolling Sea

Unmotivated, shallow-breathing;

headache, neck-ache,

stomach–not an

ache but a rising and

falling sea;

unsettled,

not settling.

Excuses, Excuses

I just keep coming

up with excuses that this

sickness claims it’s own.

The Labyrinth

This labyrinth, this labyrinth

It tears at me

This labyrinth

Since when could I not skip

These trips and pits

I fall, I slip

Into and deeper

I am trenched

Deep down in this dark

Labyrinth

(How do I | get out of | this labyrinth?)

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