Your illness, my muse

JS

I'm making illness

Coughing, hacking, sneezing, ache

my muse for tonight

When am I grateful?

Not the morning,  how passe.

For me, it's at night.

I go to bed naked

and assess each part of me

toe to tip to top

As I register

each organelle and feature

let them drop away

And, if by the end

each part of me is floaty

Nice senselessly numb

Then i know I'm good

and fall asleep easily

curious about dawn

Can't think of worse fate

to lead painful existence

I'll settle for numb