Allergies

If I were truly allergic to bull shit

My chest would tighten up,

My throat would get all itchy

Where reliefs comes when I gulp

To scratch my throat.

Sneezes would come in threes,

Loud and obnoxious,

So embarrassingly

Where my husband grimaces

And doesn’t bless me

Because the sound hurts his hearing,

And I’d feel compelled to apologize

Even though it’s involuntary.

My own ears would get so itchy,

Fluid would make me hard of hearing.

My voice would resonate and vibrate

So much stronger inside my head.

My eyes would be watery,

Get swollen and puffy

With undertones of red.

My face would hurt,

My cheeks and bones feeling fat

And so stuffy.

My tongue would feel heavy,

And warm, and itchy.

My body would ache from the inside

Out where externally

All my muscles feel sore

From just the task of laborsome breathing.

My head would feel tense,

And stuffed, both thick and airy.

There would be this fog because thinking

About anything else besides breathing

Is excessive and I wouldn’t have the luxury

Of energy

To disperse,

Because

I literally

Cannot

Breathe.

My body

Is suffocating.

 

If I were truly allergic to bullshit,

With confidence I’d know,

It would be the end of me

Within a few days to a week.

I wouldn’t last anymore.

 

 

©AyalaRain