I am much better now, but here is a miserable little piece I wrote during my feverish period a week or so ago.
My tongue is sprouting sickels
Harpooning in my cheek
Porous pus-filled horror of nose and mouth and guts
Why call them mine
These vacant body-lots now colonized
By busy viral lust
Nothing here familiar
Nothing to belong
Just ice and burn and scar.
findingtimetowrite 