This unrelenting fever consumes me Pain as red as hot pokers seems attached to my never endings Weakness ever present Does not matter how much I attempt to disprove its hold My throat forever parched Like the sands of she Sahara Air surrounds me but its hard to breath The looks of sadness defy the words of encouragement I can see through the lies and hidden thoughts Panic holds apprehension by the hand Tasting a single morsel is near impossible Scents are only heightened by cleaning solvents And my own waste. My eyes are sometimes covered with sleep snot But I have never seen life as clear as I do now Morbid perhaps, Ironic for sure I am seeing life through deaths door.
