Weak of The Living Migraine

I skipped a beat

because my body took *another*

beating,

this reheated corpse,

grew fingers

deep in her right eye socket

which spent two days trying to make room

upon an unproductive torture session

of forty-eight hours,

the digits seemed to uproot,

and migrate a few inches west

to press down between both sockets

the best of both worlds I suppose

signals of nausea and fatigue.

were sent along every roadway of this body,

on horseback, because even in the best neighborhoods,

the post is gutted.

the deliveries kept waking me,

11pm, 2:30am, 3:20am, 5:15am, 6am

the good news is,

this is their winter home

the bad news is

the other three seasons of my body

only last 28 days!