Feeding the Fever

By Count Von Bloodletter

My neck grows weak as my head is a weight
Balanced on whims left determined by fate
Indulgence of this sickness that I create
My own well being that I fruther exterminate
Arteries clogged with the virus of doubt
Bleeding from my pores as I let it all out
Awakening from death I suffer a relapse
As the times rehabilitate to come and elapse
My other side, the reciprocal sought
Is the infected funeral of my thoughts
Perilous percentiles that I shall induce
As I inject within myself an internal truce
The syrum of death is my penicillin
To help my inside rot within
A corpse, a carcass, a motionless form
I am one more victim you can mourn
Come nightfall I shall be no more
As feeding the fever kills this wh*re
I am the indecent, gruesome, burlesque
I am the dying creature of grotesque
Scream your curses
Throw your stones
Life can't get any worse
Only I hear the moans
The haunting voices
Of those who made
The wrong choices
If they fade
Silence is too sweet a taste
As I mutilate my own face
Surgery of an external place
A feeling bred of hates
The soul disentigrates
My sickness breeding fear
As I feed the fever I disappear
I shall infect you all
Feeding the fever we all fall
Pulsating in your veins
The fever floods
Life becomes an eclipse
Dying on your fingertips
Feeding the fever
Some things don't have a cure
Feeding the fever
The infectious end of her.