Sickness

A disorienting chill tumbles down my back
The bags under my eyes feel just as heavy as my eyelids
As if their pulling my face down
My core is descending into a dripping of depression
If my mind is in the floating halcyon of grace
Then my body is corroding on a balcony of disgrace
Why can’t the two elegantly waltz?
I pant rapidly under the pressure that bellows my faults
I can’t chop happily when the mesh of my finger tips can no longer endure the
Affable
‘Hello’
And then the harsh
‘Halt’
Between what my body wants and my mind indubitably needs
The little maggots want to descab it and make sure I beautifully bleed