The Fever.

I sail high, where clouds dont dare.

So empty are my bones.

But when sunshine bursts inside open mouths, they graft a chorus.

The paradox, so monotone.

When moons shed their skin, we freeze to respect the hounds.

Ocean eyes we were sent to fight against.

And one by one, the crows do come.

To save us with their even song.

But, focus be too in depth to change.

Were fixed on sound ’till the early dawn.

And children were floating in bath tubs,

Kicking to go anywhere,

Treading to survive.

But, they know its easier when you give up.

Stuck between a cry for help, and a goodbye.

So imaginary,

So obtuse.

~Good Apollo.

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1 Comment

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One response to “The Fever.

  1. Love the word choice you have going on….

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