What are you looking for?
a COVID poem
2 months ago · · Stress, · Explicit
I wasn't ready for COVID to hit.
My life is dying because of this shit.
Mind fuzzy, mind cloudy, mind blank.
Mind what? What mind?
Wobbling worlds whenever I leave bed
And sometimes they darken or twist.
Mind an autumn leaf being mislead
through a creamy bloody soup of mist.
Eating raw pasta five days in a row
though I needed vitamins and greens.
No other food was left at home though
when COVID smashed life to smithereens.
A foreign thumb unwinds the folds of my brain
and wrinkles them back unaligned.
Getting three-quarter sedation
by sleeping fourteen hours a day in vain
And one quarter of the equation
Trapped in a basement lair,
both literally and metaphorically.
No sunray ever reaches home. Fresh air
does not enter through tilted windows
and a painfully swollen throat.
Now feverish thoughts drift apart.
It's LSD but without the pretty visual effects.
Just the part where existence gets hard
And meaning is impossible to detect.
Why can't I just fucking get better already?!?