Currents: Indigestible

Fuzzy mind,
Unable to settle,
Unable to concentrate;
It’s a migraine fog,

Difficult to penetrate,
Head like oatmeal:
Soggy and runny,
Milky and flaky,

My eyes swollen up too,
My stomach full of
Knots of nausea;
It’s most uncomfortable,

My back is hurting
From top to bottom,
My neck is tight
And my head aches too.

Oh, how I detest
This feeling,
And yet there’s a pleasantness
If I don’t fight it,

But if I give in
What will I achieve?
And there’s always
Buckets to do.

It’s suffering stew,
Luckily I enjoy cooking
That’s something at least,
And better than complaining;

Alas, my poor readers
Cannot partake in the feast,
But have to make do
With word soup instead.