A nasty cold is not particularly conducive to writing poetry, but I gave it a shot…

Snorting, sneezing, scratchy-throat coughing—one giant throb
Sleeping for minutes that feel like hours of hard work
Every cell remains inert in formation as a blob
tired of awakening every five minutes with a jerk

Sleeping for minutes that feel like hours of hard work
the night drags on, reluctant to walk
I’m tired of awakening every five minutes with a jerk
can I fix time by breaking the clock?

The night drags on, reluctant to walk
clearly we’re going nowhere with plans to stay
Can I fix time by breaking the clock?
Or create enough distraction to get away?

Clearly we’re going nowhere with plans to stay
snorting, sneezing, scratchy-throat coughing—one giant throb
not enough distraction to get away
Every cell inert in formation as a blob

while the beat goes on…

(27 March 2016—posted March 28th)