ROBOT (a sketchy February)

Please, please and please, please
I beg you, let yourself fly,
you are not meant to sit on this ground
while your blood is made of air and wind.
Open your heart and let these wings take you away.
You are not cursed to bend a knee for this.

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GIFT (a sketchy February)

What do you think I wrapped for you,
a pot of gold made with silver covering?
Do you think I bought the heavens
and put it in a box of butterflies?
I am not petty enough to bucket your tears
I am not humble enough to read your love letters.

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FAT (a sketchy February)

So you think the reason I left you
was because you grew transparent like an ocean.
No! I am not worth that kind of pain,
My mind knows hurt but not how to train
against the running hills when they come to you,
even while we are valley and hills
mountains living beside a stream.

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MUSIC (a sketchy February)

I heard a woman say once that
when you speak, its just words but
when you sing, you open your soul
and let who you really are shine through.
Cherie, you were not once a sad song,
you were the star that shines even in hell.

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INSECTS (a sketchy February)

I feel the itching around my heart,
some days it makes me want to split open apart.
Lately, I feel the crawling in my neck,
like I am so much trouble to you, a piece of wreck.
I never forget that emotions are like insects
they come with some special effects.

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SWIM! (a sketchy February)

How do you lace your feet to water
while your heart is anchor?
your will becomes a life jacket that drowns you
it drowns you till you become blue.
The color of water when it is angry
or holding the memories of hurting me.

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UNTITLED (Naomi says)

Naomi told me today ‘hurt is inevitable so long light exists’
It only meant darkness comes not to stay
and worrying may never be the way.
She says the heart understands what we say
and even while we lie that its a play
we will dig a hole and still call it a cyst.

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The sound of rain falling when I’m in bed with a lover,
the breath stuck with me till expiry date.
The hands of a potter beating drums in my chest,
The physics of walking on two feet
stretched by a femur that houses weight.
The ray of the sun burning sins in hell
The existence of a Garden that was home before,
The nostalgic breeze of heaven
The questions of survival
The answers of a Hannah.

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One orderly orchestra opened overnight.
Two timing tits treated those thirsty thugs
Three terrible teachers tore through the tiny teenager

Four food fighters freed fishes from following friends.
Five funny fingers flung freedom fist
Six shivering shots surely shook some sisters
Seven sickened sisters slowly slumped

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