Tipping and tired, I crawl under the blanket
to rest my head.
Ahhhh, the dreamy down and
for the walking dead.
But then, begins the clanking nasal chorus,
spits and sputters that I dread.
Otherworldly noise that fills the room,
far beyond the
How can a nose so small create a sound
so large and red?
You instructed me to
pinch your nose to stop
the nasal thread.
In desperation, I reach over to softly squeeze
the culprit as I’m lead.
Three seconds of peace before the deprived lungs
themselves to spread.
Your mouth flies open like a baby bird demanding
to be fed.
Who knew a sleeping throat could produce
a noise akin to someone being bled?
Let this be a scripted testament in the morning
as to why I fled.
To the spare bedroom.