First Confrontation

I opened the kitchen door but it was so bright
I immediately shut it and scrambled to my bed.
I quaked as I took notice of the burns on my feet
the bubbling boiling skin of my eyeballs
and every pore of my body trickling pus
and there was this soot beneath my fingernails
looking so wrong, like it was imprinting me with
the brand of my carelessness; I clawed frantically
at the sheets in vain to clean them
and I tried to distract my mind but the fragments
of television faces flickering look as demonic as the day
At my window, I take a tentative peek through the blinds
and am relieved to note the presence of trees obscuring
the burning sky and I take a breath and my tongue
no longer clings to the roof of my mouth and
I donÕt have to blink so frequently and
I donÕt have to scratch so much or ponder
at the tingling sensations engulfing my being.
Sleep encapsulates me and the claws creep back
over my wrists, neck and ankles
holding me tight enough to disallow any budge and
to feel a slight discomfort but not enough
to kill me.
I am gone.