(Title Is Revealed At The End Of The Poem)

I can’t breathe!
Pupils penetrate my surroundings for tissue,
BUT
Only find my sleeve,
I can’t stop this incessant throat palpitation,
Determinedly continue,
BUT
In my ‘heart’ realise the amalgamation,
Wakefulness, Work and Weather,
Dangle my resilience at its tether.

One was struck down so spontaneously,
Unprepared for this back-tear-area to be graining me,
Yes! Rough and controlled is the feeling,
As you no longer manipulate bodily functions, and instead await healing,
Of which kind and which time is unknown,
I attempt to verbalise, but can only muster a groan,
Someone shouts “A croak may be more apt”,
As I embarrassingly and uncontrollably sneeze at others with no tact.

I have got so many things that I need to do!
But I keep getting disgusted looks-
As they tell me I’ve got that thing that rhymes with loo,
I DO?
Never would’ve thought it or even had a whiff,
Here I was thinking-
It’s normal not to be able to breathe, but have this rampant sniff,
So, to Mr and Mrs. Point-The-Obvious- I give my in-sincerest thanks,
I just want these UK Weather induced demons out my body,
and to have a breakfast where I can taste my Chicken franks.


Double layered or Scented – Which should I pick?
Oh! And if you haven’t guessed yet- Yeah I’m sick.