Sickday (9/19/19)

Sleep will heal all ills,
but first, wake up, feel the roil
of your guts. Go back to sleep,
let the hours slip under the door gap.
Wake back up-
still a rage inside you,
a cold smooth pebble, a sonic-blast whine,
something stirring, something-
rising.
Call your boss, your boss’s boss,
and vomit all over your nice khakis.
Sleep will heal all ills.
How hollow are your bones, your
arms unable to raise in the slightest?
And why is this tile floor so comforting?
Ah, sleep,
sleep will heal all ills.

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