My eyes are burning.   My gut aches.  My chest is wheezy.   I have read the first page of Huck Finn.  I cannot write about these things because I realize that my hands are so dry that if feels like I have potato chips for skin. I need to get out of bed and pit some cream on them,  Penaten cream.   It is amazing stuff.  I use it for lubricating my bicycle shorts.  I use it for my dry patches.   I use it for my nips and lips in cold weather, and now I use it for the backs of my hands.   It is almost an essential product.

My eyes are burning out,

they are running out of fire

and when the fire is gone

so too will be the light

My fire is getting low,

just like my desire

and I am nearly cold

and should make it higer

But the time for gathering wood is past

And the trees have turned to brown

winter is upon me

Snow is on the ground

It is snowing on my head

For I have lost my hat

I cannot see to find it

And I guess that that is that

My hat has blown off my head

My scarf has come undone

And I can only sit and wait

I refuse to walk or run

I will sit and wait

And find a new way to shiver

It won’t be much longer now

Until I fail my liver

The time to gather wood has past

the snow is getting deeper

Soon I lay me down to rest

One more eternal sleeper