Had a shrinking man,
In the oven as a child,
First time sideways.

But it doesn't hold the truth,
When the grave screams to your heart,
And forgotten things that crawl under my skin.

Jumping and wheezing it steps forward,
Back and the second gallops of a weirdly shaped horse,
But the heels hold the ground with sniper precision.

Your first memory is of the baby in crib,
And can't you see me?
This time it became your shadow.

Yelling to the yellowed pavement,
And the sand that streaks lines of blood,
My mind fallls apart in cascades.

An untrustworthy narrative,
Ghosts that weren't about to be,
And the bends turn the spine inside out.

Fascist in a time to end,
And can't read texts of ancient figures,
Yet we must step to the drum.

◄ painful breathing

holland bells ►


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Shifa Maqba

Mon 3rd Aug 2020 07:02

Simply brilliant! 💫

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