The Evil I Enjoy

Writing to you about the evil I enjoy. More like knowing the hate I have for fever. On this sick bed I curse fever. For employing my body against me. I sneezed a hundred last night. Accompanied by a boiling temperature. And multiple lining's covering my skin. The throbbing ache in my head. Can equal for a five star soundtrack. Uncomfortable I try to crawl out of my skin. A toss off the bed. On the vomits i make a home. My eyes speaks more than my voice. Tired and sunken from crying. Wanting to get a clear view of the pills. The pounding in my head numbs it all. Pocketing my brain off my skull. A dry throat and hazy voice clouds my speech. Like I climbed down a pulpit. After shouting to a thousand of deaf beings. Left only with the hummm sound Every bone hidden in my skin hurts Blocked nostrils I tried to breath through. Weaker I get, yet they asked I stay bare. A pain I am fixed to endure. The room stench with sorrow and medicine. Scent's that once brought me peace. Now twist my veins and burst the sweat balls on my skin. I am left with promises. As the needles make way into my skin. And the fluids from the drip bag flood my being. That the guileful pricks will make me whole. Am I even broken?. All I get is a confinement without my approval. Total submission to the evil that gets me right.