Sunday Morning Woes
Sunday morning, I awoke from a fitful sleep after a night dominated by an immediate and acute trouble with my breathing, and all the coughing and weezing that accompanies such states. I roused, while breathing mostly regularly, to a strange assembly of maladies - chief of which was the fact that I was at odds with my own body. It seemed foremost to my mind that my arms had grown by several inches in length and I had not yet time enough to adjust to their new extension; as such, I became quite ill at ease with myself and could only hope that time would comfort me and that I would find my recently acquired condition to be some sort of boon.
Additional distress was caused by the fact that I felt the pain of extreme hunger in a newfound manner - newfound to me that is (I wholly suspect that there are entire tribes living in the remotest peaks of some the world's more famous ranges that live each day in this particular state of internal strife). It was a hunger that found itself not so much at home in my stomach but more made its residence in the entire community of my organs. I felt this strange starvation in the whole cavern of my torso. These pangs assaulted my liver, pancreas, and appendix, and found a special habitation in my lungs.
Yes. My lungs were hungry. Woe unto us all.
