Pleasure of Fever
this is not your usual fever
it stays and it stays
like quiet words of a tomb
stabbing in the silence
no one bothers to listen
hush all your empty motions
i want to be filled up
like a cup full of pain
it is the pashmina of pleasure
that is treacherous
yet there is such comfort
when your body throbs like a dull stone
i broke the thermometer in my mouth
chewed up the shards of fine glass
that are making love to my J-shaped sac
bring me some more toxins
so i can remember this scalding iron
this tortuous heat
this crippling vapor of delirium
this, this…
before it is washed away by the waters of Lethe.
©2024 Kaustabh Kashyap.
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