Some theatre each day keeps the doctor away…

The Light, The Light…

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I feel slightly askew from what I would like to feel, dear reader, as if I’m on the very verge; teetering on a nail’s edge before falling into a respiratory sickness.  I may be coming down with a cold.  A nasty, racist, sexist, paedophiliac of a cold that deserves all the echinacea, zinc, and vitamin C which will promptly be coming at it.

I was going to write a sonnet, on Friday, about the struggle to meet the gaze of a girl you admire, but clearly that didn’t happen.  I have this urge to write one involving mucus now.  I doubt it’ll be about love.

Oh nostrils, nostrils, why have you blocked up?
Why have you…

No, I can’t be bothered writing it now.


Written by epistemysics

July 14, 2013 at 4:46 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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