Fever blocks out the world, changes it, forces you inside your skull, to lower your head to a pillow to shut everything out and so it won't fall off, the pumping of blood and wind rattling, echoing, an army of ants crawling on your spine, the pain building up behind your eyes to expel itself from the body, when all you want is rest, to sleep long and hard and wake up on the other side where fever has leached from the body and into a puddle.

© Poem Fix 2013

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