I say a massive “fuck you” to the cough gods,
For leaving me a spluttering mess at 1am.
Gasping for air, choking on imaginary bile and stupid cat hair,
Spray leaves my mouth in a hideous display
Of air-desperate fury.
A tickle turns into torture,
Ribcage about to burst through skin because it’s been ravaged raw
By the surly beast that lies within.
Laying here like a purple blob,
Window wide open, inhaler in place, water ingested,
I’m the latest victim of a particularly nasty, heinous cough
Which I can’t seem to expel from my body.
Books upturned underneath my bed legs,
So I’m sleeping diagonal, head inches from the wall and feet slumped over a lavender duvet.
Moments pass and the cough lies dormant
Before erupting into an abysmal growl and I start spraying my innards into the palm of my hand,
Wretching into the toilet because I think I might sick up tonight’s chicken and veg,
My nemesis slides back in and leaves me a quivering mess on the bathroom floor.
Mental note: 1am is when it wakes.