the fever

It's     really all          a game,
Where I don't             win or lose.
I'm more    of just the         observation,
With a    confused        FUSE.

In a  moment,   from    spiking,
To  the moment of        looow,
I'm      afraid of my mind,
And the places it will       go.

I'll sacrifice the         hours,
  In an        attempt  for  warm,
Under my   cold   sea of     blankets,
In      this   eye   of    the   minds  storm.

It's a matter     of        time,
Until   the   clock  finalizes,
And    inthat  matter of time,
All   I'll  realize    is

i like   feeling alive  .

© 2010 The Still Air