The Elements of the Howling

It's nights like this,
That the winds howl.
My windows are sealed,
My door, locked.
The bedclothes wrap fever tight.
The darkness, still, like a blanket of silence.

But the winds howl through me.
Like a paper bird caught in the tempest.
I can feel them, blinding, shouting,
Begging.

They clutch at me like starving children.
They beat me and mug me, in the alleys off the streets of my own thought.
They claim to love me,
They rape me,
The ask for forgiveness,
As they mercilessly torture me.

They blow through me,
The winds howl like wolves gone rabid.
The winds none but I could hear.
I am their father,
Their brother,
Their lover,
Their son,

But never would I call them friend,
The winds that howl,
That chill my chest.
My lungs.
My throat.
Chilled to ice,
So that breath comes in ragged gasps.

Eyes are heavy.
But the winds blow on and on.
Rattling my bones.
Shaking my heart.
I beg them to let me sleep.

But to the hand of what man are the elements of this earth heedful?
So too the elements of madness.