Dear Migraine

Dear migraine,

Someday I hope
you and me
become less intimate
companions.

You see, I am
so very weary of
being a Responsible Adult
because of you:

the Decent Bed Times,
the lack of
Caffeine After Noon,
living in a
No Partying Zone.

Any time these laws are
ignored or otherwise broken,
or sometimes for
no reason at all,
I am punished,
most severely,
might I add,
by you.

You, with your
wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey bullshit,
the way the walls tilt like
a quicksand building
caught and drowning,
or the way I
spin in a nauseous
pseudo-dream,
full of shifting tides
and hourglass words.

Migraine,
dear migraine,
please, find someone else
to torment. I have
lived under your
iron fist long enough.