In my illness, I wake from a fevered slumber
Outside, I hear the rain pound again and again against the window
I struggle for breathe, too weak to block my ears from the incessant beat of the rain.
I can not speak, my mouth is dry, my nose is locked from the sensory world.
I look up to see a distant light but no one is home.

I fall out of bed and like a wounded soldier crawl my way to get some water.
I sip and am replenished, this time taking supplies with me back to the bedroom.
I turn on the television. The boredom lulls me into another slumber.

I hear a sound and then a vibration, my mobile phone is ringing.
The phone rings out. I reach for the phone and retrieve the missed call.
It is not of importance, nothing ever is when you feel like death.