As I Lay
On bed I lay, just staring at the ceiling
And watching the fan rotate damply
Like the propeller of a wounded plane.
Bedridden for three days by fever.
The rotation of the fan makes my head
Goes round and round with eyes
Popping out like the nose of a clown.
I lay coughing like hags do
As my chest explode with insistent pain.
So I sat trying to fix my gaze
But the world seems to be blur
B'cos am famished due to loss of appetite.
Nothing seems to be able to run down my throat
So I thought I needed a lubricant
Bt that idea was too absurd.
So there I lie, like a mannequin on display
Trying to cover the stinking cave of my mouth
As I filled the room with foul aroma.
I tried to rectify errors in my health
So I started eating "mushrooms".
Surprisingly, there I lay till this day
Dilapidated and in despair.
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