Fever
Carries me in its
Burning arms,
Mine
Like strings.
My marionette body
Sways
With each turn and stop,
Head
Pulsing under
Fever’s gentle touch,
But my mind is silent with
Sick.
From a distance
This music
Reverberating
This music I can’t control.
Wrists aching as
Sick crunches up the bones,
My dry mouth sweet with
Tears.
Chills run races up my spine,
Fever’s sharp nails
Prickling my
Ashen skin.
Sick laughs, a soulful laugh,
And I laugh with it,
Weakly, of course,
For I barely have the strength to mutter
“No more.”
But isn’t this what I wanted?
To
Feel the blackness wrap me
In a blanket of nothing,
Leaving Fever and the marionette girl
Behind.
