Array ( [sid] => 186880 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Fever Dream [time] => 2020-03-15 17:12:06 [hometext] => This is about right now, when it will began. Quarantine. [bodytext] => Fever Dream
--------------------
Up in arms and pacing the place cuzza the Rona. Groan. Doan I know it.
Who you tell I touched your face in that way that the fever believed then that it too was safe to just
you know
sit there and grow and growl with that glowering glare that undresses the dead and plays with their hair
but not you.

youre different.

it wont pull you under it.

So where was I?
Right there. Over here.
Drunk on fear and disinfectant
but not the good stuff we needed for all those dirty hands that didnt hold back the deadly breath that squeezed through customs like
"Im here BECAUSE its warm, ya covidiots."
Cancel everything.
FULL STOP. Drop
Everything and never, too.
Right this wrong place, do it right
one time.
This time.
The last time...didnt work. So twitch that collection of glitches with switches that make you itch and shout and rip your stitches out in the direction of that very close space you fought me to get out of.
When our veins would look like our brains should fall out,
we burned in the fever some geezer breathed out. Thats why I think "burn it all down"
is the friendliest refrain youll hear in this town.
Quick, march your madness to the proper social distance before someone kills you for your grammas heart pills and some wood to cook you over.
disconnect that pathetic infection and tear out the hair that grows scars in its place on your face to hide the stare that you wear
like youre casing the place that im pacing.
Around.

Joshua Howell
3-14-2020
Poem 238# [comments] => 2 [counter] => 103 [topic] => 65 [informant] => Jigget [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => toughstuff ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Fever Dream


Fever Dream
Date: Sunday, 15th March 2020 @ 05:12:06 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: Jigget
Fever Dream
--------------------
Up in arms and pacing the place cuzza the Rona. Groan. Doan I know it.
Who you tell I touched your face in that way that the fever believed then that it too was safe to just
you know
sit there and grow and growl with that glowering glare that undresses the dead and plays with their hair
but not you.

youre different.

it wont pull you under it.

So where was I?
Right there. Over here.
Drunk on fear and disinfectant
but not the good stuff we needed for all those dirty hands that didnt hold back the deadly breath that squeezed through customs like
"Im here BECAUSE its warm, ya covidiots."
Cancel everything.
FULL STOP. Drop
Everything and never, too.
Right this wrong place, do it right
one time.
This time.
The last time...didnt work. So twitch that collection of glitches with switches that make you itch and shout and rip your stitches out in the direction of that very close space you fought me to get out of.
When our veins would look like our brains should fall out,
we burned in the fever some geezer breathed out. Thats why I think "burn it all down"
is the friendliest refrain youll hear in this town.
Quick, march your madness to the proper social distance before someone kills you for your grammas heart pills and some wood to cook you over.
disconnect that pathetic infection and tear out the hair that grows scars in its place on your face to hide the stare that you wear
like youre casing the place that im pacing.
Around.

Joshua Howell
3-14-2020
Poem 238#

This poem is Copyright © Jigget


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