My sickness

I caught a cold
and now my throat's
in wounds, appalls
with scarry thoughts.

What if I'll be
a bum in jail.
Someone will beat
when I am ail.

Where will I take
some cloth and bed?
From my own leg?
On floors I'm led

to dreadful death.
"Shut up, don't cough!".
Under the berth
I won't take off

vestigial slime
from healthy neck
at morning time.
Weak health 's my wreck.

Night before 10/14/12


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