Feverhead

Put your fingers in the edges of my eyes

If I've been lost to the self that I defined

And the coldness that you hold will be encompassed by the whole

Bring my fever down and I will feel alright

This hollow way of mine

Is always creeping up behind

Who I hope to hold and welcome into me

But I know better than to hope

For some everlasting whole

I will hold my arms out graciously and blind