migraine fragment 3: an injured godzilla

Note: I am in the process of archiving my writings disperced across social media platforms on my own website here. This is a mirror post of “migraine fragment 3: an injured godzilla“ on my Substack page (cringe) processing.

I had one of the worst stretches of continuous migraine days lately.

Helpless. Hopeless.

I emptied out so many orange plastic bottles.

Those white pills barely did anything for this bout of attacks.

Chugged additional blue and red pills from over the counter

in hope of miracles that never came.

Ice hats on rotation. Contrast therapy.

Vitamin B2. CoQ10. Magnesium.

Ginger. Pak Fah Yeow. Tiger Balm.

Squeezing.

Pinching.

Slapping.

Pulling.

Banging.

Stabbing.

Squeezing.

Rinse and repeat.

Inject your damn Botox shot into my scalp.

Feed me your damn GLP-1 pills.

Might as well punch my jaws so hard to knock me out.

Then there was my surging rage.

I don’t dwell much in my childhood traumas in my day-to-day life anymore.

In this immeasurable amount of pain

I regressed.

Sit up straight.

Suck it up.

Painkillers are bad for you.

I could no longer sense

whether I am here

or there,

who is to blame for my suffering.

I rage on

like Godzilla.

An injured one.

Atomic breath

building

in

my

throat

while I curl up

in the dark.