Fever

My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
The uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are,
At random from the truth vainly express'd;
For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.

I actually have a fever. So I thought it would be a good time to put one of my favourite Sonnets by Shakespeare. Sonnet 147

*My fever has not been cause by vampire bite.... No bats or necks were hurt during the making of this blip....

BREAKING NEWS! I HAVE CAPTURED MY CAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!