A Touch of a Thing

Some invaders have cramped my space.
Slid inside my sinuses.
Infiltrated my soul.
I have a touch of a thing that is running its course.
My body battles back. My blood boils.
My words ooze through the plastic wrap trapping my brain.
Thoughts coalesce and dissipate before my fingers decipher their murmurings
Analytics are lost to the stream of consciousness.
Bittersweet words echo, rebound within the walls of memory.
‘This too shall pass…’ resounds inside my head
As I shuffle off to slumber
Wishing, wanting, these unwanted visitors away.
-rsp

Until next time, I bid you, dear reader, adieu.