sick.

i'm sick,
and it hurts
to breathe.
i'm tired of being sick
and tired
and sick
and i can't remember what it feels like
to sleep in a reclining position -
to rest without phlegm bubbling about,
trying to force its way
to
the
surface
resulting in a back-breaking
deep cough
that sounds like death rattling
but is productive enough
to produce
ugly
yellow
chunks
of nastiness
inside my mouth.
and then i ask myself
if i should swallow the thick mucus
or
stop caring what coworkers think,
pull out my trashcan
and hack that blob into its depths -
hoping to be rid of it forever.
knowing i will likely meet its clone
the next time
i cough
and sneeze
and become suddenly thankful
for the times when i felt
well.