Dial tones ring in my ears,

And a vent pours forth heat.

I become nauseous.

I’m no longer seeing red anymore,

But a pleasant maroon instead.

I feed myself grass and dirt

Hoping to gag and rid myself

Of a certain something I can’t quite

Place my finger on.

I stumble over my bed and swear to god

That this fan is drastically closer to my head

Then it was yesterday.

I can’t seem to purge myself,

So I begin to consume everything in sight:

Notebook paper, plastic, fingernails, a feast for sure.

What is it going to take?

Finally, after what seems to be hours.

No.

Days.

Weeks.

Years.

I expel what seems to be

A shrub, a plant.

It teems with life, and grows around me.

I fall asleep in this foliage of mine,

And dream of the rain forests

Falling down around me.