The Reaction

I lay here in the bunk all made of white a sharp twinge of my viscera a small request I make to take some ease. In she sweeps on quiet feet to bring some abatement without a soul she trods with a cold heart. In my stream the fire does spread slowly, then with increasing heat my brain burns, my skin aflame. I call out through the fog the siren I blow. It falls on deaf ears she hears all with no regard. I beg relief none do I get what can one do but wait.