I sit on this shrinking couch Itching to write, taking A journey to my amygdala To extract feelings that coat This glass ceiling opaque. This is what I find: A bag full of wool And clouds engorged With rain.
Eventually, Abeke, Love will seep in Through the cracks In your wall, slowly Moisturize the lichenified Skin of your heart, wet the Parched soil yearning for rain. The scent of moist earth will Tickle your nostrils with the promise Of new beginnings and hope will Sprout in your soul. You will Unfurl to the golden…
Pick a pen Plunge it into Your chest and Twist. Watch The blood drip unto A blank page. Make an imprint of Your dying soul As it exsanguinates, Flail, and become Limp.
I. Pain. Rain Everywhere, pelting. Welts showing up, angry; Wet moss slippery Underfoot. Puddles. I am standing in the midst Of a flood. Blood everywhere. Tears. Blinding tears; Torrential rainfall in this Rain forest that has me Trapped within it. II. Bruised body aching, Housing broken soul; Blood leaking from sweat Pores. Bloody tears streaming…
Random words coalesce
Into this poem
In this madness
Is a method
These words incomplete
Of laurel trees
Leaving gaps of flesh
The spaces of silence….