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
I just want to move and groove and be who’ve
I’ve meant to be and not this thingamajig
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.
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