Temperature

Flames background

I’ve got a temperature. I’m not feeling right.
The ceiling is sat on an incline tonight.
My dreams have escaped from my clutter-buck head,
Now they’re silently stood round my angle-poised bed.
My limbs are impossibly heavy and fat.
My mind’s gone off walking and hasn’t come back.
I’ve lost track of the time. My tongue feels smooth.
Repetitive dreams stuck in circular grooves.
My sweatshirt is sticking me up on the wall.
I am burning in chip fat. I’m not well at all.

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