Whytealye glowing hisway Me, back strains Pull in spite bluewind towing chains
Saw rows woven tongue tied brains, starRed his leisure beet win fab whip pin chains
Lies tat lie hoursman hangs high, whytit sheets dragon rawfruit sprawled unwakeing
Breath taken widthgall diss clarity lightyears a slave my now disdain artistically forsaken
Death shaken
While the whytit washed world beams me down complacent.
This poem unfolds when you loosen your tongue and mind and allow the words to slur together in a slave language known as gullah. (I'm bending the meaning of other words to suit the narrator) Read it at a whisper as if you were there trying not to be seen, like a slave on the wall confined to just watch... Himself outside of himself.