Dusk gets here and the night folds
the day into nothingness
and before the crickets share their
opinions, the devil
has already claimed a dormant piece
of my agonising soul and
reinstated dark thoughts.
A replay of the words of men cut through
the skin to knife my ego
and the smoke drags out of the blunt
ready to annihilate my lungs and leave
me numb, for the mind has always found the need
of dilutable pain unnecessary
worthy of a quick fix and fast forward
to when I can let myself feel.
The constant leak of bittersweet
feels has me feeling like the poison ivy
is snaking around
my stupid little heart
and every fall is worse than the last
as I fight to answer gravity's romantic calls
And the spoils of watered down love
Squash the last seeds of hope
Waiting to bloom with time.
The anachry in my headspace is
draining my rusted bones
and time won't allow my perfectionist
breathe so I have been procrastinating, for I
keep forgetting the clock hands have never
relinquished their pace
for any man, rich or poor
and I can't help but weep for those who
rely on my unstable self
to sail through the high seas of life
like a lighthouse does for sailors.
Before the sun comes around, I
might have gone to the other side of my
globe only to return home
with more wounds
from a war no one other me gets to
see or attend where I watch me combat myself
all in an attempt to suppress
the parts of myself I feel apologetic about.
wambuku w.
