Migraine

Another morning Breaks in a wet and thickening Cling of fog, gathers on leaves to load Down and bend Each with a growing weight, Fastened until too heavy to hold when all Gives way to spill and Hammer on the roof of your world. Inside, the air throbs. Fragile nerves Jar with every weighted blow and cry to Keep the light from Leaking in between clenched lids. Migraine !. Nothing worse to wake to, Or have the inflamed dregs of a dream Pounding like a pestle in the mortar of the skull, Quickening with every stroke and Revved to pummel each clambering thought Should you try To escape the prison of your pain. And when Unable to take anymore, you have that Vision of a place where you would like to go, then With your finger, marking it with a large X on your imaginary map, hoping when You're ready, you can blast off leaving a smouldering Zero on the pillow where your head should be.