feverish

smokely, smokely
grind your way back down
find your morning hid
among the dying grass
browning with every passing ray
clackclackclack are the wings of fear
brushing dark across your cheek
swiftly go the hours
slowly die the minutes
you're all knotted up, you foolish
don't you know this needle isn't right?
clickclickclick are the cogs of an early death
scraping steel against your side
burn, burn, say the eyes
cut like frost through your fevered heart
ring out the funeral bells
call down the rain
in damp and thorny sickness
send us weeping from the field
wring out the funeral robes
spreading your mirror out
in a sick and frozen puddle
across the floor.