Maybe I should be a poet. Being sick is perfect for poetry, getting all swoony and rolling your eyes back, sighing a lot and wishing things were different somehow, placing the reverse of your trembling fingers on your wide, high, yet sweaty forehead and sticking your butt out in a tragic manner.

Oh okay, poet’s ain’t really like that, at least most of them, but I sure have seen a lot of sick people act that way.

Hack,

LWIII