Sick

You are cold

The kind of cold that

Tears through your skin

Flies up your arms

And slams itself

Deep

In your

Heart

Slashing

it’s wild nails

At your bones

You are tired

The kind of tired that

Drags your eyelids

Absorbs you into your bed

And binds

your mind

to an anchor

Sinking you

Into the murk

You are hot

The kind of hot that

Turns touch into open fire

Screams at you to be strong

And makes the night

Feels like a war

That

Never

Ends

You are stuffed

The kind of stuffed that

Suffocates you like smoke

Fills your breaths with smog

The drowning

Makes you choke

Like a flower

In a desert

I hate to say it

But you

Are sick