Voiceless;
but, somewhere,
screams, like a night-car,
lust for ears.
Like a fallen tree,
be back inside,
diaphragmic cluster.
Oh, the words I could not muster:
“You hurt me,
so I came at you
like thunder.”

Samantha Rewrite

You’re so damn “Generation Y”;
is that the reason that you’re leaving?
WhY the fuck you leaving my seX
for her Zeds?
Babe, that ain’t pleasing.

Myyy god,
I know you need me; you don’t love her.
You tell me you don’t want her.
Float on by(e),
my tainted lover.

There can’t be peace,
cos we were never friends.
I don’t give a fuck now you’ve run.
333: Indian hotel room,
in which you showed me no love.
I am now rising above.
I’ll go see Lamin –
he ain’t yet caused me the pain
that on me you poured.
And now you’re living a lie,
you’ll find that my love does wain.
I’m
mental when it comes to the wrong men;
to be more G, I just won’t give a toss.
So done thinking,
“Ooh, where’s his love at?”
Here texting six men like Zlatan never lost.
Trust in me: this is some shit you’ll regret.
You’re calm; you don’t even what this cost.
Badassest you could ever meet,
something you can’t beat; you gon’ feel your loss,
but
we’ve been too many tenses.
I’d say I still love you but really it’s passed,
I no longer present it.
No future in this, unless one with forensics.
Why you gassed off her rack?
Boy, I know you’re defenseless; oh, you know you’re defenseless.

No,
the birds have not stopped singing;
someone shut the window, though.

No,
the sunlight did not die;
you closed your eyes instead.

No,
that envelope, unopened,
was not yours ever to close.

And, no,
that heartbeat sound you hear
is not your lover’s breath.

“̶I̶ ̶f̶e̶e̶l̶ ̶s̶o̶ ̶l̶o̶n̶e̶l̶y̶,̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶d̶i̶e̶,̶”̶
s̶h̶e̶ ̶s̶a̶i̶d̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶p̶e̶b̶b̶l̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶p̶i̶n̶n̶e̶d̶ ̶h̶e̶r̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶s̶k̶y̶,̶
a̶s̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶w̶a̶t̶c̶h̶e̶d̶ ̶h̶e̶r̶ ̶f̶l̶y̶f̶l̶y̶f̶l̶y̶ ̶a̶w̶a̶y̶.̶

“Ay! No more,”
she said,
“of this astigmatic mind.”

All a-blur
and all awry
and worse than seeing with The Eye.

The Eye
don’t lie,
but minds like lies.

Close each door the right way.
Maybe, some, with a broken hinge.
Maybe, some, with a gentle fling.
If each stays open,
ajar and upwind,
then all the frames will fall
like flying numbers.
Domino ring.

There are days that I have been elsewhere than here.
There are roads unlike my own on which I’ve walked.
There is fact: the fact of this.
There is, too, fact: the fact of that.
What’s to say I’m not the one
or neither?

I don’t even know anymore.

Tears come,
they fall,
they form a globular procession on the floor.
They all march forth.
Some deserve to be there,
some not at all.
They all hold plastic hands,
and all the droplets bounce.
Some come together,
some feel left out.
Some look like glass,
and they pass a luscious chalice around.
All the wet lips sip;
they take a liquid hit.
Their bouncing turns to dancing
and the place is FUCKING LIT.
“This is it!
I happy!
Tears happy!
Wet and happy!
Lakes happy!
Waves happy!
Rockpools happy!
So, why for you cries,
Human Freak,
Human Mess?
Just get bit wet.”

That’s what my tears did. That’s what my tears said.

I am a lonely fire.

Amidst the woods,
I sing to trees,
but nothing does transpire.

I am a lonely fire.

I see the birds
talk of the leaves
in voices I admire.

I am a lonely fire.

On beetles backs
I shine my heat.
I wish I was a flyer.

I am a lonely fire.