Since the blogsphere is awash with disturbing angst-ridden poetry, I thought I would add my own contribution.
Ode To My TENS Machine
I want to tell the whole wide world about my darling TENS,
My little matt black box and I are very special friends.
He stays close to me all day long, he never leaves my side,
I tingle when I feel those soft electrodes on my thighs.
He came straight to my rescue when my agony was heinous.
My love for him is deep; in fact it is quite transcutaneous.
This love it has no side-effects; those drugs can be so icky,
Though when I pull the patches off he leaves me rather sticky.
I knew that it was meant to be as soon as I first saw him,
He stimulates my nerves so that I produce more endorphins.
He stops me curling up with pain; he stops that horrid spasm,
Alas however, he falls short of making me [feel any better than as I have described above]
He is the answer to my prayers; the dream I have been chasing,
After just a week he needed his battery replacing.
However much my body aches I know he’ll make amends,
My love, my life, my tingly-wingly, darling little TENS.