Cured of Anything

We’re never really
Cured of
Anything.

We’re always
Sick of
Something.

Our minds wander
With a warmth
So great
For knowledge
That we never seem
To stop
Running
The fever
That consumes our
Bodies.

Light the match,
But
The body
Won’t go up in
Flames.

Ice the drink
Because
You’re gonna
Need
A cold one
On
A
Blistering
Day
Like
This.

Salt the wound.

You’ll find
Life
Will get a
Bit
Sweeter.

Sweeten
The
Berry,
Or
It’ll be too
Bitter.

Why be bitter
When we can be
Better?

Pain doesn’t heal,
We do.

The body
Wears
Down
While
We wear
Clothes
To
Protect
What
We
Deem
Oh so
Important.

What is important if not
Only
Our
Very
Existence?

Importance exists
Because we deem
Value in
The things
We find
Valuable.

What is value
If we have no
Currency
To measure
Life
Itself?

We’re never really cured
Of
Anything.

Our lives seem
To mean
Everything.

All at once,
Or never at all.

But,
It means
Something.

But what if
Everything
And
Every
Thing
We want
Is because
Some
Thing
Came along
And made
It
Worth
Something?

Stick a thermometer
Through your nose
In your mouth
Up your butt,
And you’ll find
You’re probing
Yourself
For
The
Weather.

Is there stormy
Weather?

Is it cold
Or
Warm?

Don’t we have
Google for that?

We’re never really cured of
Anything.

We’re always sick of
Something.