Nicotine,
burning in the corner of the restaurant.
Bleaching,
every key on my laptop.
Staining,
QWERTY keys with a yellow gunk.
Rotting,
teeth like licky licky lollipop.
Comatose, you fill my nose.
Fill my mouth
with fizzy fizzy sodapop.
My breathing stops.
It's no trouble,
I'll just bubble
for these TV docs.
Googling 5 bed cabins
on the mountaintops.
I tell you of my ailments.
Don't look up,
from your desktop screen,
you think.
My illness is subjective.
I've never felt more neglected.