Afloat And Ailing In The Arid Attic

Throat is sore

Glands are up

Banging head

Down on my luck

Confined to my bed

But too hot to sleep

Missing the air con

But for work I’m too weak

Swimming in

My own sweat

Stuck to the sheets

Which are wringing wet

Like a water bed

Or rather a paddling pool

My mattress has become la mer

But it’s stifling as oppose to cool

Life in the attic

Is an arduous affair

Sub Siberian in winter

Sweltering in summer sans any air

Oh, bring me an oscillating fan!

To waft me as I ail

In silver or white but definitely not black

Coordination with decor must prevail

I scour Argos

and Amazon online

But the fans are so plentiful

I cannot decide

Which one to order

And can they deliver?

Oh f**k, they’ve sold out

That’ll teach me to dither!

I’ll take a cold shower

If I can muster up the strength

To stand up for long enough

To get myself drenched

Nay, I’m too frail

At least at the minute

Thus my sweat sodden bed

Retains me in it

If I could just sleep awhile

Replenish my energy

Of this BO ridden pit

Could I at last be free

But this lurgey with which I’m afflicted

Coupled with the heat

Is keeping me awake

Sedate me, oh somebody, please!

I shouldn’t complain

It’s nice to have sun

But being broiled alive

Isn’t very much fun

Thus with the lobster

I utterly empathise

So torcherous and barbaric

A way to meet one’s demise

Fortunately I’m not a crustacean

Forcibly yanked by a net from the sea

I’m merely a girl with a viral complaint

Not viewed as a delicacy

Thus I should quit whining

And focus on being ill

For my head in the freezer could I stick

And with the frozen peas chill.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s