EPISODE · May 5, 2026 · 5 MIN
Antihistamine
from FRED STZ MUSIC · host FRED STZ
ANTIHISTAMINE Last spring I loved the smell of cut grass Now my throat closes up when I walk past A single pollen grain lands on my tongue And my body acts like I've been poisoned and hung Summer came and dust became the enemy Under my bed, in the books, in the memory I bought three air purifiers, taped the windows shut But my eyes still swelled like a prayer from a nut By autumn I couldn't touch a dog or a cat My skin turned to braille – hives wrote a map The doctor said "It's just a phase, take this pill" I said "Doc, my immune system wants to kill" Antihistamine Antihistamine I take it every hour now or I stop being me Antihistamine – the only thing that sets me free From the world, from the touch, from the allergy to be Then came mold, then came nickel, then came cold air I wore a face mask just to breathe in my chair Perfume from a stranger on the subway car Left me gasping like a fish in a stolen jar I got allergic to coffee, to tea, to the news To the blue light on my phone, to my own excuses A friend hugged me once – I broke out in welts He said "Maybe you're allergic to the hand that helps" Antihistamine Antihistamine I take it every four hours or I stop breathing clean Antihistamine – I swallow just to stay between The living and the dying, the rash and the routine Then came the day I couldn't eat bread or rice My mast cells declared a holy war on spice I lived on boiled chicken and distilled water My mother cried – "You used to be my daughter" I became allergic to fluorescent light A flicker in the kitchen would turn my day to night Migraines, hives, anaphylaxis from a lamp I started sleeping in a cellar cold and damp Then I got allergic to silence and to sound To the floor beneath my feet, to the lost and found To the smell of clean laundry, to the rust on a nail My life became a hospital gown – too thin, too pale The specialist ran a test on my blood. He said "Ma'am, we've never seen this flood." "You're allergic to histamine itself?" I laughed – then my throat closed like a stolen wealth. Then came the final stage – the one I feared most I became allergic to the human host Not their cologne, not their pets, not their hair Just them. Their presence. The weight of their stare. I sat in a room full of family and friends My skin burned like a thousand paper cuts, no ends I screamed "Get away! Your breath is killing me" They backed off slowly – and that's when I could see Allergy to life is just allergy to love To the mold on the memories, the dust on the glove To the pollen of promises, the nickel of need My immune system finally learned how to read It read my own history – and declared it a weed Antihistamine Antihistamine I take it every hour now or I stop being me Antihistamine – the only thing that sets me free From the world, from the touch, from the allergy to be Antihistamine... I swallow it one last time. But tonight... ...I forgot.
What this episode covers
ANTIHISTAMINE Last spring I loved the smell of cut grass Now my throat closes up when I walk past A single pollen grain lands on my tongue And my body acts like I've been poisoned and hung Summer came and dust became the enemy Under my bed, in the books, in the memory I bought three air purifiers, taped the windows shut But my eyes still swelled like a prayer from a nut By autumn I couldn't touch a dog or a cat My skin turned to braille – hives wrote a map The doctor said "It's just a phase, take this pill" I said "Doc, my immune system wants to kill" Antihistamine Antihistamine I take it every hour now or I stop being me Antihistamine – the only thing that sets me free From the world, from the touch, from the allergy to be Then came mold, then came nickel, then came cold air I wore a face mask just to breathe in my chair Perfume from a stranger on the subway car Left me gasping like a fish in a stolen jar I got allergic to coffee, to tea, to the news To the blue light on my phone, to my own excuses A friend hugged me once – I broke out in welts He said "Maybe you're allergic to the hand that helps" Antihistamine Antihistamine I take it every four hours or I stop breathing clean Antihistamine – I swallow just to stay between The living and the dying, the rash and the routine Then came the day I couldn't eat bread or rice My mast cells declared a holy war on spice I lived on boiled chicken and distilled water My mother cried – "You used to be my daughter" I became allergic to fluorescent light A flicker in the kitchen would turn my day to night Migraines, hives, anaphylaxis from a lamp I started sleeping in a cellar cold and damp Then I got allergic to silence and to sound To the floor beneath my feet, to the lost and found To the smell of clean laundry, to the rust on a nail My life became a hospital gown – too thin, too pale The specialist ran a test on my blood. He said "Ma'am, we've never seen this flood." "You're allergic to histamine itself?" I laughed – then my throat closed like a stolen wealth. Then came the final stage – the one I feared most I became allergic to the human host Not their cologne, not their pets, not their hair Just them. Their presence. The weight of their stare. I sat in a room full of family and friends My skin burned like a thousand paper cuts, no ends I screamed "Get away! Your breath is killing me" They backed off slowly – and that's when I could see Allergy to life is just allergy to love To the mold on the memories, the dust on the glove To the pollen of promises, the nickel of need My immune system finally learned how to read It read my own history – and declared it a weed Antihistamine Antihistamine I take it every hour now or I stop being me Antihistamine – the only thing that sets me free From the world, from the touch, from the allergy to be Antihistamine... I swallow it one last time. But tonight... ...I forgot.
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Antihistamine
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