Thursday Morning

I’m sleepy, but jittery.
Hurting, but not overcome.
Must be a Thursday.

Thursdays are when
Mr. Fibromyalgia comes
out to play.

He’s tired of
being good and
looking nice.

He has been nice,
patient, kind,
tolerant for
three days.

Even good visitors
start to stink
like bad fish
after three days,
right?

The sun is shining,
the air is cool
and bright.

I’m going to
swathe myself
in sunshine,
and ignore
Mr. Fibromyalgia.

I’m tired of him
already. He needs
to find a new
place to play.

©EWLane 9.18.14