Spreading like covid
your words it infects
Through vowels into consonants
each phrase it subjects
No drug can divert
fated spores on the wind
Arriving like locusts
attacking within
The Muse has been stricken
her voice it impales
While spreading to others
each time you exhale
The body count deepens
your messaging damned
No cure in the offing
— dead silence at hand
(Dreamsleep: December, 2025)