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.
