one flu over my cuckoo chest

if i shift just right
the pain in my shoulder
with every shallow breath
can be dulled slightly
even as this roiling
ball of oily sick
in the pit of my stomach
churns endlessly
throughout the night

i am a human biohazard
incapable of shaking
this demonic procession
in virulent possession
a walking warzone waging
invisible battles in
complete cellular decline
a petri dish of disease
rabidly seeking
a new host to incubate

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