This fever dream seems like it will stay forever,

Liquids cannot quench my thirst nor can they extinguish my body's need to feed on the shivering paleness of my flesh.
Stems of salty veins carve themselves down my face and bloom in my hands.
They ache and create splotched patterns of red and thread into my hair.
I dare not move for the magma spinning up my arms.

Fire like this leaves me begging for a quivering death.

I've barely broken a vial of vile
pills to chase out the thrill of overwhelming heat.
In my bed sheet catacombs I meet
the guise I despise the most.
the true grimace of my tormentor .
The flames filter my soul, and

I am screaming for a pure breath of cold water
to fill my lungs with ice,

and slip me into a frozen sleepless rest.