User:RobinHood70/Random5

Getting Sick
The body stops discussing. No more loose warnings late at night, moss tongues or headaches. It happens when you are sleeping, the dreaming head still thrumming in its shell and the body bends out. Your shape disintegrates in those few hours, the headache settles in a petri dish, spots		up and blurs, the throat peels like a rind, its music baroque, the skin goes litmus. In the bathroom rodent-throated, hunched like a Henry Moore over the bowl, unable to speak as your body tells it all. It knows you much better than you, does its thing, acts like a parent		who is tired of explaining. Out, poor franks and gravy, farewell unctuous creams! Your skin is a sieve, your whole body shuts down as if it is testing for mice in the walls and needs total silence. It carries you back and forth all day, the brilliant god evicting the garden from you. - Michael Redhill