Chloraseptic

Ear, nose, throat, each drain clogged Expectorate bars through brain fog Thank God for gatorade and plain broth Turn a paper towel into a J. Pollock paint job Shiver in me timberlands, the coldest captain Till I spike a fever pitch quicker than Aroldis Chapman's Patronis happens to be a slug in a folded napkin, anyway Employer thinks I'm over-acting Never gone full Nic Cage for sick days To miss pay with bills every which way Back and forth, hack and snore, wake and pace, check the temp Back is sore, sat to floor, hate this place, it's never-ending Extra wimpy, wincing at the slightest touch And lighting up the mic despite the something-other-itis blood That drains my very essence like an upwards-drawn razorblade It's not too much to ask they add a couple Wong-Baker faces I'm at like a... Twelve But I'm not the only one I'm not the only one in the world to have missed out on my favorite band 'cause I got covid At least I didn't die from it I'm not the only one to have suffered a major overdose from reckless use of opiates At least I didn't die from it I'm not the only one of my core friend group left feeling exposed out in the open At least I didn't die from it I'm not the only person on the earth who's been completely overcome by self-loathing Shit, I prob'ly could've died from it Thermoreceptors haywire, flummoxed Every aching step an un-climbed summit Life in public never my desired cup of Tea, but in this isolation, any greeting I covet Biding as my state of mind plummets Gray matter's gunk, no sign of it Nine days of waiting for the windup with Nil but bile in my stomach, still haven't died from it I still haven't died from it