Afflicted

If these liquid notes prove not an antidote

If lime to my acid thoughts they be not

If into my ears they float but not

To diffuse into my scorching sores

mend my mind like a magic draught

if these quavers and minims and what-not

will not mute the  decibel of a storm…

I fear I am a walking ghost….

to a calm madness perpetually lost.

~ by elfish dawn on January 11, 2010.