Fevered Obsession

I have, indeed, been sick. Not awfully so. Just seemingly endlessly so.

I took the endless low-grade fever (3 weeks now and counting) and the obsessive form of the villanelle proposed in Poetry Thursday a while back and put this together. It's a bit forced, but that roughness somehow fits with the lack of smoothness my mind has right now due to the everlasting (insert expletive here) cold.

[And yes, I'm going to the doctor's office (again) this morning in hopes they can do something.]


Low-Grade Fever

Treating symptoms hasn’t helped me mend.
I’m tired and I have too much to do.
My low-grade fever never seems to end.

I’m tired from each effort I expend.
My tasks wait in an ever-longer queue.
Treating symptoms hasn’t helped me mend.

I have a stack of bills I need to send.
(I hate to think that they are overdue.)
My low-grade fever never seems to end.

I go to work and try to apprehend
The topics of the meetings I sit through,
But treating symptoms hasn’t helped me mend.

To sit at home and nap, oh God forfend!
I only fret and fuss and carp and stew.
My low-grade fever never seems to end.

My sad malaise seems ever to extend.
Some nasty germs achieved a brilliant coup.
Treating symptoms hasn’t helped me mend.
My low-grade fever never seems to end.