Sick

Woke up at 7:30 AM today, feeling like i was going to puke up the nothing that was in my stomach any second. My voice was crackly and probably an octave deeper than it should've been. I had to lumber over to Physics 2 in this state, a class that happens to be over 2 hours long. Good news: I am still really really good at physics, but 2 hours of sitting in plastic chairs with a stomach that's doing flips isn't exactly ideal. I'll be laying in bed and drinking orange juice for a while, I feel. I haven't actually been sick like this in years, so many years. It is a perplexing feeling.

Today marks the 7th post on this blog, which means I have updated once a day for one week, and I'm pretty glad I didn't forget about it. The other day I had some writer's block, and this is the poem that broke it.


Lovely 
Lovely little words and phrases piled
into my head, intrude my thoughts.
Lovely little walls against
any ability for me
to reach deep down
and recover thoughts that flow together.
Lovely little thoughts and phrases
like "Get fcuked" and "Have a derp."
Lovely little sentiments of people,
places, everything.
I wish they could escape me.
These Lovely little clouds obstructing,
overriding, obstinate,
thoughts of loving, thoughts of hate,
creative thoughts,
creative phrases.
Leaving me to find myself
left without a word.
This lovely little paradise
it reels me in, it makes me warm
but in the backa  ringing,
maybe a buzzing,
maybe a calling,
something isn't right.
I've lost the will to abjugate,
even if for a short time,
thoughts of lonely little me,
thoughts of going, going, going,
thoughts of lovely girls to see,
that so drive my poetry.


They say that to cure writer's block you just have to write about the inability to write? I'm pretty sure I've heard that somewhere, but it seems to work.