Today's poem was created in response to the Poefusion prompt to write an abecedarius.
As dawn breaks so does my fever,
back to the inner corners of my body
concealed in fat and consciousness
disguised as a bad dream.
Every time it emerges
fights flourish in my head
garish images swell and evolve
hallucinations overtake my subconscious.
In the morning, when the battle has faded
just as I do every morning, I
kick off the sheets
look for clean clothes
No evidence of illness anywhere
other than in the memory of dreams.
Probably tonight will be different
quality sleep instead of a fevered fit
rest instead of confused somnambulism.
Someday I'll know what triggers these fevers.
Today I still don't
understand the combination of factors that causes
visits from chills and dreamed demons.
What does my body sometimes need to break?
Xenobiotic creatures in the blood, or bad habits of
youth taking their toll or an excess of
zeal for constant movement without pause?