Im 23 lbs under wieghtRibbs protruding like cracks in the sandI kinda look like the grill of an old rusty ChevyMy teeth are constantly telling mewith jolts of pain to stop eating sweetsbut its nothing 1600 mg of Motrin wont cure for the moment.And my eyes grow more out of focuswith each passing moment that seems to blur like the bird who wizzes byslaming into the windowleaving its eyes stuck to the reflection of the horizon in the paneIt too cannot see a true horizon anymoreAnd all that Tar which chokes me on a daily basistakes yet another breath of sweet life awayso I'll place another betweenignight it with the passionto filling me breathless once againMy speculation of good health has been blackendand overrun by the reality of ill pastmaking for an unhealthy future, but...At least Im not a cat,and have to go through this eight more times after this one...EK
