Three days of flu
and your mind has betrayed you,
feverish and mocking,
a temporary madness
where time has no reign
and the easiest task
evaporates like morning fog, where
there is no focus, only
a kaleidoscope of thoughts
changing color and mood
like psychedelic snowflakes dancing in the wind
ripe with lust and tears and frenetic failure
sleep, blissful sleep,
What can I say? I’ve been fighting the flu the past few days and a poet works with what he’s got.
The picture is the last of three silhouette photographs I took a couple of weeks ago in the midst of snow and fog. You can click on it for a larger version.