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.
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