As pain spreads from head to eyes to throat
to through the neck and all within it
to the lower back and lower muscles and
lower and lower and lower still
a prophet finds herself
in the middle of the kitchen
one hand on the cold floor, much colder
than the dripping sweat dehydrating her weakened limbs
Right now she no longer feels pain, only a dream:
in this dream is where she feels nothing
(nothing but all that are interesting
nothing of the same old, same old
sit up straight to drink this tasteless bowl of soup
the only things of interest are textures
bland textures)
In this dream, she walks like she had not been lying flat for weeks
and the world feels like how it used to be /