Poetry from the book [The Lion and the Sun} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

With a temperature of 105 I lay in the snowbank burning with a fever

My body temperature is so high that I burn a ring in the snow

A fever of delirium that brings me crawling outside

I've been in bed coughing for three days trying to break this fever

I call two friends who I work with at a construction site

They arrive and get me in the car and we roll

Then we stop in front of a house

These two knuckle heads rob the home owner of  his tv set and game console at gun point

I am watching this with my head against the window sinking further into my fever

Shots are fired by the black guy who owns the home

We speed off but I've been hit with a bullet to the stomach

They lay me in the parking lot of the hospital and peel out leaving a heavy odor in the air

They ask me how I would like to pay for this

I give them my insurance card

They give me that laughing gas and I float above the operation room like a Chagall

They don't have a room for me, so they roll me out into the hall

The next few days they roll me everywhere except for a room

I finally end up near the morgue, which gave me little faith

Doctors can only do so much, it's up to the body to heal itself

The light buzzes on and off down here and the walls are moist

These creepy shadow people walk around me and several dive into my face

A bright light appears and a little girl vanquishes the shadow people

She holds my hand and tells me I'm going to make it

Her hand chills me and I start to chatter

She shows me how she was murdered

She shows me a license plate, a home, the face of the perp, the killing ground, and the faces of the other kids he has killed and wiped from the earth

I agree to help her kill this asshole

She whispers in my ear further information

I get better and walk out of this hospital that has catholic emblems everywhere

I kick the creeps door in, and hit him with a crowbar

I take him to the killing ground and sit him in a plastic chair I scavenged from the dump

I stuff peanuts up his nose ,and scoop a whole jar of Peter Pan peanut butter into his mouth

He suffers and suffocates just like the children he murdered.

Poetry from the book {The Lion and the Sun} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas