Headache

I can feel the low pressure system
sitting on my heavy head
like a leaden weight thrown down
from the no-fly zone sky
out of some spy plane passing by,
undetected by everyone
but unfortunately prone little me.
I can feel my skull throb,
feel something like my very brain
shoving against the walls
of its lacquered white skull-prison -
that damn tooth-clenched
migraine smash has slipped a hand
down past my medulla and
pinched pain into my nervy neck;
it takes control of incisors
and drives them deep into tongue,
pumps paralysis to limbs
too tired and unguided to move...
I can feel myself giving in,
caving in to that quarter-desire,
seventy-five percent need
to bury myself in the warm dark
found face-down in pillows,
to cover my quivering sore self
with sheet after sheet until
that lancing flame cut thru brain
is smothered and forgotten;
until that weight is gone, thrown
back up to from wherever it came.