Under The Spell Of Intense Fever Poem by Aadil Hingorjo

Perhaps this hotness of the body has its own storm
Stories unpredictable, and the tales so terrible
All out of sudden cover my heartbeat
Perhaps this fever is frankly open to the sublime restrictions
All night dies while turning here and there on the bed
With parched lips, hazy hair
But the pressure of the thoughts and the exceeding temperature don't cool down
No.. nothing. No book. No debate. Silence
This mute I rests upon the shoreline of layers
Feeling of coldness and extreme hotness
Cuts... Pauses... Minor relieves... and again the same
As if the stones are raining upon me and I'm hunted from pointy arrows
Still there's a blank smile over my lips
Empty eyes... Memories of Mom... and the home.
Away from home, it's deeply unbearable
Blossomed self has gone barren within days
Inspiring stanzas are now pale
It's an extremely ablazing breeze
Could the breeze too be this much blazing?
Ah!
It's dogdom; it's in fact random!
Sadness summons me in low tones
Despair of the desert occupies the mind
Thirsty
Hungry
Unpleasant
Tasteless
Plain
And like an entirely abandoned tomb, I exist
This corpse might not ever be consoled ever.