The blood courses sluggishly under my skin
Dry wrinkles appear
My nerves are flattened
Muscles lie slackly against my powdery bones
Tomorrow I may live, or die
Right now it’s too much effort
To think
The world is alien through feverish eyes
Any minute now there will be a phantom here
He will carry me away
To the place where
I will feel whole, and well, again.