plural

the
crimson
fluid
splatters the
back of my throat

I
gag
in its
viscous
grasp

my eyes
wide
startled

my
breath
blocked

its
sweet metallic
taste

surges
forward

it leaks
from
the corners
of my mouth

dripping
on to my
palms
upturned
in futile effort

a ghoulish
image
greets me
in the mirror

glance
at the
spatterings
of colour
on the bathroom
counter

choking down
this peculiar
elixir of life

licking my lips
clean

I laugh
at my own
foolishness

If there
is one thing
I can not
bear

it is
the taste of

Cherry NyQuil