everything is so sweet
like cotton candy sold in the night market
just like vanilla ice cream that melted on the tongue
tonight the sky was bombarded with fireworks
rainbow colors are scattered everywhere
stars have friends
they celebrate

There is a place between life and death
A place where you can bathe in nebulas and saturate your skin in the dust of the stars.
Where colors consume you.
And angels play medicinal harps.
Rainbow flares and flashs kiss your  eyes.
Sound is felt within every part of your consciousness.
So open your eyes as wide as you can so you can see the universe as it was ment to be.

i sit in the shadows and think
of what it would be like to show my wings.

they flutter behind me gently,
casting flickers of light on the walls behind.

colors gently fade and twist,
and feathers lightly fall to the ground.

the room i stay in is dark.
it has thick walls to protect me.

every now and then, the floor will rumble,
causing cracks to appear.

but, they seem to fix themselves.
struggling never helps.

i have been told i am shameful.
i must hide away, not show myself.

no one knows of me, except for one.

she seems to be intent on keeping me here.
but,

i hear her crying herself to sleep.
i hear people yelling against my kind.
i feel the rumbling of my floor caused by her sobs.
i feel the pain of when she pulls my chains even tighter.

i want nothing more but to be free
to be by her side, floating near her
letting her be who she truly is.

i feel the loss of hope,
as my small room becomes darker and darker.
it's hard to breathe.

a small creature such as i,
wings of pink, purple, blue,
a robe with every color

it's hard to be one like me.

but i'll survive, until i can see the rainbow.

​”I am addicted.
She is my bottle of *****.
She is my cookie crumbs.
She is the eighth colour of my rainbow.
The colour that’s everywhere,
Except inside the rainbow.
She is my three A.M.
The three A.M. pain I write about,
And the three A.M. calls I don’t make.
She is my happy ever after.
The happy ever after in a fairytale,
In those tales for my three A.M. kid,
In those stories for my four A.M. demons,
In those lullabies for my five A.M. drowsy eyes.
She is my sushi.
She is my ‘one eyelash – one wish’.
She is my 11:11 ‘Wish, please come true’.
She is my cigarette.
Here’s the ******* problem.
I’m addicted.
And she’s my nicotine patch.”

Black and White your paint pours from your tongue
And my lips could never go past yours
because I drink the colors
that would shatter you
like rain
through the bow

Love Everlasting

Have we not witnessed
How the midnight scary dark skies
Are lit up so carefully and timely
By a million humble, and yet enthusiastic, blazing stars
As we lay attentively beneath,
Swimming in our uniquely assigned portions of life
They smile, they shine upon us
Too brightly and yet so naturally gently
Haven't we witnessed?

Have we not noticed
How after the heartless destructive storm
A rainbow of multiple colors
Has laid itself so perfectly in position
Across the tired and idle blue eastern skies
As we stare from below, hopefully
Hoping zealously for a better tomorrow
She stretches, she beautifies effortlessly
And yet our hearts so sore and heavy from the storm
Our faces still light up with wide smiles
Haven't we noticed?

Now can one deliberately deny
The strong indisputable power that lies
Way up above what sight can tangibly comprehend
So much light, too much truth
So much evidence, so much reason
To trust, to believe undoubtedly
And mightily
To the mighty
Love everlasting

Mongi C. Nkabindze

here i bleed colours
of insanity,
what i see, of what i hear
what i think, what i wear
and when i'm not wearing
any skin.

wearily my eyes catch
glimpses of universe,
and of much beyond-
in those colours dancing
on the walls of my keep-
just as i fall asleep,
never wanting to wake again.

there's pain, and then
there's nothing,
absolute in its chaos-
so true, loyal to its creed,
it never bleeds an ounce
of anything, no matter
how much you scream at it.

there's nothing true,
not even the light
even the moon-light
splits in seven
on day, and past eleven
if you hold a prism
up close.

and yet here,
in this tiny room
with no doors-
the colours dance for me,
and i'm not even blinking.

thinking about all those
curses, that still plague me-
ghosts and evil and friends,
and laughing my head off-
as i put my head in the ***.

maybe i'll finally lose it
before the night ends.