i don't know where it hurts

Something wrong is growing inside me

I do not know what to call it 

Some days it feels like a thought,

curling itself around my ribs...

squeezing until breathing becomes something

I now have to remember.

it feels like a fever

My bones ache with things unnamed 

My hands shake, chest aches

Stomach turns against me in an imaginary war 

My heart forgets rhythm, racing as though

It knows something I do not.

YOU'RE IMAGINING IT

Touching my forehead, wondering if the heat is real

trying to locate the sickness.

Is it simply a thought that has learnt to become a symptom?

i cannot tell anymore. 

Sometimes I wish there was a wound, a scar, blood...

The proof that i am not making it up,

the proof that it is not in my head...

For a sickness with a name is far, far better 

Than one without.