Which means:
Poetry!
Sick, Sick Poetry.
Okay, here goes.
Pain shoots through my abdomen
Death opens the door says "come in" (eh?eh?)
Snotty, pussy grossness and yuck
Brain in different places like "What the fuck?"
Nothing to do but change my facebook status
Snowflakes form in a crystal lattice (it's a stretch, yes)
I wish this would be over so I could exercise
At all the unfairness, tears come from my eyes
I haven't practiced in 2 whole days
This shit is fucked up in various ways
I know it''s true when I say that "This too shall pass"
Until then I do nothing but sit on my ass
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