For desire
Wild strawberries hunger for my mouth’s spit
Praying to God on the seventh day of ripeness
Single mothers secreting their breast milking
From the agreement of their wild creatures
On the lips of my grandma trees grow on wind
And their fruits never landed on the soil
My reason, life has been mutilated too
And my father is withering yonder
What’s it like to squeeze once a boy
Between mystery, adulthood, and splendor
Breathing within rich hours a borrowed life
Splashed between the black and white
Some questions you might ask, and
God says yes to the fallen who pray
Decent in his flames, going over it all again
Sleeping amongst the fear of somebody’s soul
Baking guilt out of forgiveness for breakfast
Twenty-three, alone with no porch
Knowing nothing of the broken moon
This room hoists more kindness than grief
The ocean questions the purpose of my feet
Must I pause and plant a seed of doom, after
These fishes caught in nests swim backward
First, they came from the pity of bastards
To the sugarcanes, our quiet has pledged
Killing time dressing the holes in their minds
Fools, who think of themselves as prophets
Now teeth their claws in the belly of the sky
A life fell asleep, the young turned grey
Refugee nostalgia
Going without saying
Supervising the common herd
On what the living does after a funeral
In our own eyes
They see us too too little
Sometimes our everything equates to nothing
To them, with their smelly egos and “sympathy”
But this land, huh!
This land has witnessed God’s own confession
This land has vowed for the end of the owls
This land has drowned in its very own tears
Oh! Today I beg to be my own God, please.
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