in the frenzy of my multiple realities, as i combat adversary's, situations become more bizarre and extreme, my plates still spin, my juggling act in full swing, any moment now one of those fine china things are going to fall right on top of my head and set stars in orbit around my noggin.
i leap from here to there, all my fruits are in the air, apples and pears, blueberries and zap fruit. mmm mangoes and coconuts, assuming a coconut can be described as a nut amongst fruit.
well here i am in the grip of some inevitable medieval sickness, a renegade virus has struck me a blow, run down like a penguin in a straight-jacket on the santa barbara freeway. that hacking cough, the sickly fluids, will they ever stop, the awful soreness at the back of my throat, constricted and restricted, intense pressure and unbearable load. the blurred vision, the throb of cranial black hole as gravity collapses inside my skull. i have to work, my people are also struck down, we are all equal here, everyone is sick and i'm the last man standing.