Pour me a bit of your sympathy

In the sanctuary of my travelled being

Of a dying young soul fashioned in scars

A son of brothers who imprison tears

Only waiting to shed them at my funeral

I hear your heart. My death sees you

My demise could’ve found you sitting beside me

Sneezing these times and pains with me

But the ecstasies of life carried you away

So don’t celebrate my death with your tears

I am not gone. I live in the heart of your regrets

I am twenty and I have never killed a man

But I know the face of death

Sometimes I am a house of fire flames

Shooting. Burning. Killing. Dying young. Alone

I confess

My tears carry souls of lives

Like how dimples fall deep into cheekbones

Or bruised bodies before the pain and blood

A theatre of dead lightening and thunder

An afterlife of secrets scores of lustering lights

How about we not die today?

But Incase I die today. Right now

Don’t celebrate my death with your tears

Am not gone, I am here in the hearts of my art

I will speak to you

In the veins of these dusty winds

In the vessels of these watershed memories

I will tell you. I needed you when I was alive

But you ran away from me. This heartbeat.