Headache
Headache Soon I’ll be a fugitive of my own skin, raw. I’ve chosen the rare sensation of tainted blood to outfit my bow of thorns. Today I will not clutch a fist in the wind’s sneer, nor will I disenchant my examiners. I will wait for the postman to deliver the world turning from my rented attic; wait for the headache to ease, or go away all together.