Feverish

Sunday settles on me like a heavy haze
Heat curls up in my crevices, sickly, damp
A vast sea of nothing sits idle, watching.

A fever of sloth is sweet, sweet poison
Crumpled on sheets, a mist of sweat
Like dewdrops for those who slumber.

Limp limbs, rise, make use of this time-
Words whisper in the deathly afternoon
Quiet them, says the sun. Be still.

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s