Wake Up

Butting heads with coughs and fevers.
How freeing it is to wallow in those dreaded visions.
Night thoughts and missed chances,
All away and at bay
With only a heat filled blanket to mark the border
Between the callers and the called
The flesh seems to take a vacation.
Seems to be someplace else.
Leaving only the churning.
The gurgling.
The mix.
Now that the fog is lifting
And the hunger and lusting
Have returned
Waking the skin to crawl and feast.
Wondering if it might have been sweeter

To have stayed in those rare dreams.