In the wake of coughing fits
I am reminded I need rest
and I lay my drowsy limbs
down with the weight of my drowsy body
and thoughts of work, and friends, and family bother me.
I feel weak to accomplish anything.
I feel accomplished enough already.
I spiral into writing
as the sun is going down,
finding any words at all
to describe the listless thoughts
between halting, jarring coughs,
the mucous breaking through my throat.
I have woke.
Lacking insight into free time,
I lie in waste of my Saturday night.
And despite the insidious cough that tickles all the time.
I don’t mind.
I’ll lay here until eyelids finally fall
and the stream of thoughts halt.