Ode to Nyquil
O azure-hued elixir of the damned,
How like a wad of wool you've made my brain;
And set my heart to flutter in my breast,
Its palpitations shattering my rest;
My head with visions of disquiet crammed,
My body weak as cardboard in the rain.
How like a zombie from an open grave
I stumbled toward your lying boasts of might!
And, measuring with care the little cup,
I drank the nasty-tasting fluid up.
But, sleep then craving, even more I crave
This morning, after such a restless night
That "Death warmed over" sounds a decent meal
Compared to how I climbed out of my bed:
Death taken from the fridge, and slopped
Into a pan, then someone stopped
And left Death therein to congeal
And, sensibly, had cold pizza instead.
I pour the noisome remnants in the sink;
I'll trust myself to time's all-healing force;
For blue and icky is the nasty swill
That sickens further the already ill;
I'll back to bed, and broth and water drink;
The cold will pass: let nature run its course.
I'll never get a job writing ad copy.