Itching, itching
in unending irritation,
eyes puffy and leaking,
spilling salt
over molten cheeks -
bed-bound and awfully weak.
I cannot stand it;
I am a shell, broken
my pieces are very light
and punctured - not watertight -
I let in a virus,
vicious, with the waves
I languish; only
a withered cord tying me
to life.
For in a few weepy blinks
I might die.
It comes to me as no surprise
this disease -
please, it speaks no lies,
it eats my brain
just like some blind child
that’s starved and so senselessly wild.
No memory, no hesitation,
this is me - alive,
afloat with those bloody bubbles,
those parasites
that gloat and bruise my concentration -
wreak hell upon my mind.
So see me, here,
flattened,
by the potion of alienation
I am pie-eyed, senseless;
a study for your contemplation.