A Little Sick

My head throbs

With a beat that bobs

Up and down like gobs

Of tears from sobs

Incomplete from jobs

That are controlled by snobs,

And heartthrobs

For blobs

Of irredeemable slobs

As the doctor swabs

My cavity he robs

Me of my brevity and skewers me like corn on the cobs

I had yesterday with wads

Of grass under my hands and dogs

Barking from a nearby pod.