Sometimes, my head burns

when I’m talking to you.

I’m trying to provide clues

squinting my eyes,

pulling away from louder phrases,

god, even the light burns

in bright crimson and golden

flashes, obscene pain.

Congratulations on winning

the battles with teachers

I’m glad.

Everything chatters,

rumbling cars their bellies hanging

farting trucks and mumblng motorcycles.

So,  I’ve heard you but missed

the message,

probably missed the best lines.


I’m going to hide away in hell.


7 Oct 08,

Feeling the Migraine.