If only Dr. Seuss would learn to curse 

when the multiple sclerosis symptoms are worser and worse. 

I want to bitch and scream and cry 

Goddam it to hell oh why oh why 

the spasms, the aching, the paralysis oh my. 

The brain fogginess and slogginess and bitchiness too.

I just want to move and groove and be who’ve 

I’ve meant to be and not this thingamajiggy 

that  crumbles and rumbles along with rust in my pipes 

Who grumbles and mumbles with complaints and gripes 

about this body that used to be fine 

and now I don’t recognize that it even is mine. 

so I’ll pick myself up by the scruff of the neck 

without giving a damn or giving a heck. 

What the flickety, flackity, fluckity, fluck. 

maybe I just shouldn’t give a big ol’ flying fuck 

but I keep cursing along with with this dastardly disease, 

the bastard, the brute, this putrid if you please. 

And if the cursing helps me get through each day 

then I’ll just keep doing that and I’ll leave you to pray.