From the absolute rule of heartache
my body politic has revolted
against the entire system.
Now I preside the federation of pain
in this brickbat of life.
Up north is the headache
a little down is a throat crying hoarse.
Right in the middle is my
famous chest pain of no value now,
downstream uprising takes a constant toll.
Mad blood rush filled with poison
erodes the shores of my veins
sweet rain does not percolate
and my aquifer slips away.
The torment of swollen feet keeps
me from moving with the agony of broken limb.
With parched lips
I squat in the middle of nowhere
and beg for rain
but find vertical mirage
spring in the desert of my life.