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.