literature

Feverish

Deviation Actions

Synesthi's avatar
By
Published:
82 Views

Literature Text

A mirror melts
And dribbles down the wall.

The ceiling rotates,
Whirling like a fan.

Small patches of silver,
Wispy ghosts,
Gather in my vision and watch me.

My pillow is sandpaper,
And my sheets are wooden.

The noise they make scratches,
Scrapes itself up my glassy,
Near-shattering skin.

Air winds itself like duct-tape
In my lungs,
Making me waterproof,
Sealed shut.

I can't breath,
But I don't care too much,
Not right now.

The bed is tilting,
Riding the carpet floor in waves.

I'm going to fall.

It's going to buck me off.

But before it can
I sit up,
Grappling for my headboard,
And feel my head connect
With the wood.

Everything breaks,
I shatter
And slip off my bed,
Into the sea of darkness.
I've had a few high fevers in the last few months, sometimes briefly reaching 105 degrees F (that's 40.5 for those of you who operate in Celsius), and these distort my opinions of reality. It amuses me that I only realize exactly what I was looking at after the illness.
© 2012 - 2024 Synesthi
Comments3
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
marcelmiranda's avatar
The same happens to me!

Impressive! Whenever I got a fever, my mind starts to... well, I do not know which word in english to use, but in my brazilian portuguese it is: Grogue.

And when I'm 'grogue' I satr to see, think, hear, feel strange things, but it's amazing if you see it as an experimentative point of view. ^^