Fever

A gonzo-esque poem from my fever dream

Fever

During a fever dream

I was visited by ghosts

Ghosts that never lived

But have presence of their own

First, a boy with limited world knowledge

Tasked by an unfeeling sister

To tidy her room after too much fun

With a man who looked like Tommy Wiseau

Accidentally ingesting narcotics

Confused for a day

Met with fury

That the room remained the same

I dreamed of being a boy with autism

In a tired but loving home

A mother stretched thin by work and hardship

A kindly brother in the wings

A room stood still, unchanged and pristine

Of a missing sister, who died of a childhood disease

Another autistic boy, this time housed at a hotel

No social housing meant no permanent home

I was at a lift as a CEO applicant was trying to wow shareholders

I reported the failings of the previous companies

Sans inner monologue

And then went for a walk with the men, impressed

My brother see’s me from the window

Calls for my return lest I embarrass myself

Finally, a girl in her room

Movement un-coordinated and confused

Unsure of where I was – each story having no context

Corridors with peeling paper

Wires exposed

A kind older lady in her room confirms my thought

A broken care home, no money spent for residents.

At the top of the stairs is a broken lift

I try and climb down.

A group of teenagers downstairs announcing I must stop

One came to me, told me to stay, counted to 4 and left

When I had tried again, nothing solved

I was admonished about not being grateful for my lot.

Flash to a meeting with a middle-aged woman

Buzzwords and parroted mantra’s

A conflict resolution feline brought to the table

A proxy for “Feelings and Frustrations”

Repeated methods with empty effort

I told the cat to fuck off.

Later looking at GIFs about “how I want to be remembered”

As my vision pixelated and my head ached.

I woke up.

Straight limbed, lucky

Shamefully, still dwelling on my own trite concerns

Perspective lost