Poem: Feverish

How could a body undo a disease?

Through fire,

Through pain,

Through the mindless numbness of pressure?

We tear ourselves apart because one thing is wrong.

How mental…

How comparable so many things are to a disease.




Some may find sacrilege,

In those words, compared,

To illness.

But have you ever been in pain which no drug can quell?

How is that not something attacking something else which is foreign?

How is that not sick?

I am feverish,

So many things feverish.

We burn for what we want,

And only death or claiming can douse

Those flames.

How could a body rid itself of a disease?

How warm must our innards grow?

How much must we hurt?

So, that one day we might feel whole?

Special thanks to: Bob GerkinCollin PearmanDylan AlexanderJerry Banfield, and Michael The Comic Nerd. 

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