Ebola

All relaxed with nails bit to the quick
While golden was the silence
Like foam filling the mouth of the exempt
The burdened saw the damage
Absorbed with our legs lost to heated-white lies
We remain to pull its frame
From the ashen wreck of anxiety
Blown to conspicuous borrowed attacks
We’ve got the nerve to live so low like this
With nails bit to the quick
And teething blood so warm
The man who keeps
Sewing needles between his teeth
Prefabricates every spoken word
With no weapons to lay in front of me
Robbed of my skills in social weaponry, robbed
Impending was the omen
No choice but to sever dead skin
You reap what you sow
To degrees you’ll never know