A cold
is not cold
at all.
It’s like overcooked stew:
hot and dank.
My tongue feels like I have licked
a hundred shirts,
my nose is heavy,
my head floppy and dim.
I am not suffering
I am just temporarily
a wretched version
of myself.
A cold
is not cold
at all.
It’s like overcooked stew:
hot and dank.
My tongue feels like I have licked
a hundred shirts,
my nose is heavy,
my head floppy and dim.
I am not suffering
I am just temporarily
a wretched version
of myself.
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