The Evil I Enjoy. Poem by Onwubuariri Jachinma

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.