No poetry today,
Just the thrum- thrum- thrumming of pain
Behind my eyes, at the base of my skull, all over my being.

No best-laid plans today,
Only pressing painkillers out of blister strips
And calculating the time until the next.

No me today,
An abrupt erasure through the sudden onset
Of neon-coloured lightning in my brain.

No words, no talks, no touch,
I am lost for the world
In my bedroom-sized solitude.

Hoping that counting my nos like pearls on a string will get me through the night.