Blue Flu

Bandicoot's bounce over my dead lead head. Grim the outlook, I am the grimness in my own storybook. Moods are my mannerism's. Gooey nose - a stonking flu got me now I mimic a monkey with my bullhorn blowing. When will the sun rise my eyes? Blighted by sniffles, I dizzy and sway to the 'Drug Mart', there to gag and goggle; at so many meds for a bunged-up head. Handfuls of hope back to the laze-upon floozy chair guzzling pills a popping. Later, write this, mayhap get pissed on some bitter brew. Bandicoot's snoring. A little peckish. Here a glimmer there it is, the shiny light, feeling svelte in a sky bright blue. Sniffing better, sleep later.