My head is in a vice;
my eyeballs and teeth hurt so much that I want to grind one with the other, but end up squeezing and scrunching and squirming instead.
I lie here in time frozen; melting, watching clouds pass and cover the moon, like opportunities scudding past.
I wait for the clouds to slow or stop, for them to knock on the moon's door, offering possibilities. I wait in vain as she sinks lower in the sky; willing her to grab one and choose.
So many pass, so quickly. Then her light is finally swallowed by the bleak, winter clouds. Perhaps they weren't opportunities after all.
Now I lie in full dark.
The view from my window morphs to the camera perspective of a supernatural werewolf film: intriguing and terrorizing, smoke-roiled and viscous, both at once.
I remain, waiting for dawn.
"Awake at 2 AM with flu"
Copyright 2017 GJM