ash of becoming a nobody (After ‘Fever 103°’ by Sylvia Plath)

Molten fires on veiny palms, raging within this burning body.
Allow a few more tides, springs to burst into, burning body!
The weariness of the night sits impure on eyelids. What ends this hellish ache, this crying? Anybody?
Those blue bubble graffiti! Giant bells on sidewalks!
Hospital sheets to cobbled streets, this longing, anybody?
Morning dew skates into vapor, like Isadora’s scarf in the wheel.
Buds and flowers flush a meek pink; renewing their body.
Nightly counts, timers, and discharge; the hunt for the un-boxed paradise.
A camellia, de-ceasing into a cosmic body?
Bhajans for soul’s salvation; smokeless, instant; the rise of the body; the ash of becoming a nobody.
Flickering candle , to be snuffed, like everybody.
Flush, flush, this bronzed skin, time-bound like everybody.