every time
i think i have
shaken this illness
the fever ignites
and i find myself
still drowning

i fear it is a
permanent sickness
as each good day
is balanced by three
in which i wheeze
and long for death

the pills aren’t
having the intended affect
and sleep is a misery
of half dreamt hells
as i long for a day
of feeling vaguely human

one day i figure
it will either break
or it will finally break me
as i cough myself into
a stupor of plague tinged
inconsequential malaise

i just know i am tired
of being sick and tired
seeking silver lingings
as electricity courses
through my fading brain
where i cannot find relief