The Bell Jar (with me inside, bah~)

"To the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is a bad dream." Slyvia Plath, The Bell Jar

Down with the flu
Spiralling Sugary Shocks
The needle beckons
with dead hard knocks

And yet calamity is ignored
Ignorant Ignoramus Idiots
They are uncompleted
Unfulfilled hovering pivots

So I wander yonder
Silver tears in my wake
Shivering Saddening Solace
Far from reach, my take

But the Sun impresses
Illusion Inverted Inept
A mere Dream, no more
Till I rise from the depths

Another 4 stanzas of gibberish. Well whatever. I'm in weird composing mode today, attributed by my flu, plus the impending blood donation drive tomorrow. *Shudders* But hey let's just hope it won't hurt. A lot.