the object of my obsession
begins and stems from the progression,
of the phlegm that lodges in my throat
and coats the contours therein that tote,
the words I'd like to utter
which rise to but a mutter,
and it's utterly upsetting
what the cold is now begetting

I'll cough and hack,
engage in froth from lack
of energy in my core,
but be evermore determined for
a respite away from the chore
that tore my attention from the more
fun activity of binge-watching "Jersey Shore"