Terminal
Dirty little things/
inside me/
scratching at my belly/
eating my guts/
and soon – very soon – they’ll/
seep into my heart, brain, lungs/
enter my core and I’ll
die, shitting myself soon after.
Dirty little things/
inside me/
scratching at my belly/
eating my guts/
and soon – very soon – they’ll/
seep into my heart, brain, lungs/
enter my core and I’ll
die, shitting myself soon after.
A runny nose, a fever under my skin,
an aching body, and fits of coughin’…
The elementalism of disease:
a body’s burden but a mind’s tease.