On My Own Tonight

I know my head will snap right off of my neck, but it won't. Some miserable brainless highly intelligent miniscule "thing" has invaded me with force. Last night my head weighed 50 million pounds, packed tight, like concrete filling every passage way, suffocating my fat swollen nasal passages, as if they were trying to engulf or eat one another. Heavy mouth breathing all night.

Waking with the Dead Sea in my mouth, my tongue was nothing more than the dry scaley head of turtle or a dead lizard on the highway, three days old. Swallowing, the left side of my throat felt pierced anew with each peristalsic movement. Ouch. Blowing my nose felt like a pressure cooker getting ready to explode. It was just a squawk of air tightly rippling it's way out, vibrating my face. No satisfactory snot expulsion. Rediculous.

My left eye, irritated and watering all day, sobbing just for me. On the drive home today as Snowflake slept, I meditated on how it really sucks to be sick and alone. To feel crappy and to have no one to coddle you. It's a deathly feeling.

It amazed me as I flew down the dark road how Morrissey could still have such a grip on me twenty years later. I was listening to "I Know It's Over" off of "The Queen is Dead". I moped and cried. Tears swelled up along with my sinuses so that I could barely breath. It was perfect sadness and although I really wanted to blow my nose halfway to China, I couldn't.