So I’m still dealing with frequent migraines, the headaches along with all of the other fantastic symptoms that surround it–nausea, disorientation, lack of focus, sinus pressure, light sensitivity, depression, a worse memory than usual, the occasional beatitude, soreness throughout my body similar to what follows seizures, almost no sense of time.
The meds I’m on might be a problem too, since it seems the nortriptyline isn’t helping to prevent them much anymore, and the side effects are becoming more pronounced. A visit to the neurologist this week might improve this at least. It’s hard to tell what the eletriptan is doing to my head too.
Anyway, I wrote a poem about migraine. Maybe I’ll make a habit of it.
MIGRAINE
My head has been cloned on top of itself.
Each eye has its own head each with its other eye.
Like a Ven diagram where it all overlaps?
There is no easy way to describe it.
Looking, I see.
Seeing, I understand.
There is suffering.
There is a cause to it.
There will be an end to it.
But I do not see the way.
The man rubs his head into the pavement.
Children had drawn a beautiful landscape in chalk all over it.
The man rubs it transparent, his head is a transparent chalk eraser.
People watch but they cannot help him.
The man opens a portal in his suffering and falls in.
There is no record of this event.

























