I spent me evening on the receiving end of a crap rap song
with a strap in me face an me back door gone
both the entrance and the exit if youre following on
coz five balaclavas and a glock got the block wrong

My body rotting from day one.
Death a guest star at every birthday.

My heart
has cracked open
like the most
fragile of
elusive
eggs
viscous fluid
drips d
            own
upon the plate
filled with
fissures,
spidercracks that
threat to
quake into
seismic
         measures
and eventually
piece off into
oblivion
and only when
I can finally
unfold myself
from these
underwater
embryonic bends
fetal stretches
and folds
that never end
only then my arms
reach out
into the night
searching
and,
in tiniest of beams,
in one fell stroke
of midnight kismet
I find you
around me
in colored chromium
wrapping me up
headstrong,
filling my
wounded sutures
with
     liquid
gold

Through the moiré windowpane -
By my leaden writing desk -
I saw a host of dark clouds
Hastening to their somber task
Like a herd of frightened sheep
Shrouded ‘neath the callous mask
Of the night - on the way home.

Through the moiré window pane
A question stood in my way again:
What is a cloud that leaves shut
The flask* of an announced rain?

© LazharBouazzi, 30/12/2016