sickThe invisible worm
That flies in the night,
In the howling storm,
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
--W. Blake
Hab had id bor do days alweady. Many peoble hab it up here. I dink I god id from xso; dough he has a feber an congestion, while I hab a bery low demp, fadigue, an a tummy buggie.
Blechies. Me go back do sleep now.
