We're doused,
aroused by the senile scissors,
crawling like a snake,
Inside of us is a venom,
lethal as death itself,
we're unthetered,
as a lion see free to roam
on the street like a diesease,
and when kerosene comes alive,
the tongue become a sword,
that shredds happiness into pieces
Our words,
are a broad way to the gallows,
a kindle of angst,
spreading forth,
like raffia on a sunny day,
hell dwells in the heart
like hopelessness on a forlorn Island
wrecking havoc,
like flying spears and shooting darts,
There are flames in the bones,
a guttural moan,
garnished with terror,
and we're transformed into beautitudes,
trying profanity,
on the tenderest of our heart
till we choke on hatred,
gagging it down
like a bag of gall.
We're masters to alphabet,
bending then to our will
like rubber inn ember,
0life is an offspring of the word,
and so is death,
There are flames in the bones,
waiting to simmer sweetly
shoot like a hooting owl
and scatter abroad,
never to be seen or felt again.
