this time, the flu has made its way
past the front gate of my skull and
nestling itself in the living room
of my nose it starts to scratch and
scratch at the walls, the wallpaper
bleeding translucent slug-slime
green-yellow-bile drip-dropping
down the monotony of skin, and
it is as though there is a fist
closing itself inside my head, as
my senses betray me in favour
of hibernation; my nose refuses
to follow the paths, to pull in the
lines cast out; my left ear is a
blown out tire on the side of
a burning building, and now
I am spinning spinning spin
-ning giddy girl-like all over
a sleepy corridor, as I collide
into an uncaring wall, my
pockets stuffed with the down
of a bathroom stall, so white
and so precious as they slowly
run out, and the various pills
in my backpack are charlatans,
coming in their unpronounceable
names and their esoteric outfits,
naproxen, clarityn, staredecisis,
paracetamol, my tongue trips
over every word like they’re
all drugs, and now I am finding
a reason to justify my poetry,
as the small man in the bed-
room of my head dives under
the covers of tissue and wipe,
trying not to feel anything again.

Freewriting Explanation: Every day, Valen shall use 5 minutes to write completely unprompted and uninterrupted, letting the words lead the way. There is no end purpose to each piece, but rather, the pieces are allowed to develop naturally in their own way. The pieces are then uploaded without edits.