hundreds stuck with an eternal fever
lay here in disjointed slumber
lazy wires weave in and out of me
a chemical flood running through veins
broken figures with wounded paws
whimpering as nurses tend to them
feet of patients wander
trying to find a lost haven
doctors with damp foreheads
speak in blurred voices
invoke our names
some apathetically repent
mumbling bible verses
others are circled by heaving bodies
drowned in grating alacrity
holding only stale memories
of the surrounding faces
with familiar fugue
we fall into a hollow decay
an unspoken gravity hangs among us
these copies of shoebox rooms
are pristine prison cells
I lay here
bound by unseen shackles
ill with harrowing impatience
even the howling catacombs
would sound like a victory march
to the desolate silence of white walls