Morning Cold

gravel grit soreness

scraped through the tiny passages

bone aching through skin

sliding nausea down an unwilling throat

unwelcome it bounces back up

pain puddles in eye hollows

under cheeks ridges

residing in the trail of muscle gliding down the spine

hacking breath

tasting of disturbed lungs

one aural cavity closed

sealing the sounds to the skull’s other side

a longing for sleep

curled in the deep, warm recesses of unconsciousness

hearing the wind scatter it’s tears on the windows

chasing the unpleasantness

hot tea melts a bit of it away


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