Fevered

A sick mind is impressionable

The fireworks today went on and on, explosions in the sky,

It made me feel war, it made shudder for splintered bodies.

The bands playing wild late into the night, I can imagine the skeletons dancing.

You are light, and it's not the medication,

Every film blows you stronger, an amplified butterfly effect

when I watched that one, all I saw that night was pain

Child murders on repeat, self-hate, and the pounding fever in my brain

Muttering "ow" every 30 seconds or so, because it gives your mind

something else to do, because if you don't, if you try to fight it,

you'll go insane and want to die.

After vomiting a glass of water, you take sips

with prayers, hoping you can keep down another, knowing if you can't,

it's tubes or death.  You need the water to keep the pills down.

You need the water to live. 

And what do you think about? 

You think about everything.  Loneliness.  Love.  God.  Purpose.

But not deeply.  You try to escape.

You try to accomplish something, end up napping.

Writing makes exhausts me, I

don't have this kind of energy. 

I hate this room; there is shit on my pants

in the laundry bag in the corner.  It smelled at first.  And half-eaten

food, random everything, everywhere. 

On Christmas eve I went for a walk, I got lost

On my way home from taking my sister to the airport.

I had to do something, because I knew I couldn't spend that evening

alone.  I got lost five times, I wanted

to go see a movie, but

My friends didn't want me to cross the street alone, they said it was dangerous.

Victor doesn't trust the locals, doesn't see hope for redemption.

Strange.  He held me across my chest when I had finished vomiting.

It made me feel better, but then I was cold, so cold,

And then I needed six blankets to not feel cold.  And the cold

makes you feel sick.  It makes going to the bathroom, or

trying to get water, dangerous, because you could lose that precious water

again.

While walking I thought of where I wanted to be. 

I thought of my dear friends, playing music.

Of the possibility of sex.

I chatted with her the next day, it was a nice conversation,

nothing dirty or even romantic. 

Afterwards I was ashamed.

Day five I am feeling better, but breakfast put me back in bed.

I should give up eating breakfast.  It doesn't like me.

I watched two films on being dehumanized and held captive, about

trying to escape.  I want to leave this bed, but I have nowhere to go,

I should sleep, but there's no time anymore, there's no point.

I slept 18 hours the first day.  Well, I don’t know how much was sitting

staring at the ceiling.  I gave my sister my clock. 

There's nothing to get up for tomorrow. 
I could sleep all day.  I want to accomplish something.

God, I pray that this would go away.

So I could think straight.