Your glare weathered my coccoon
Leaving pores within my walls
So with each palpatation 
My thoughts bled out
i remain an empty shell till
U return the substance sustaining ur ego
And refrain from abusing my 
                     Fervor

Red Admiral
       shedding coccoon
                       tastes the freedom

I dream of.

Her legs hang low,
just above the night's whispering tide,
illuminated only by dawn's dim light.
Polar limbs and the nonlinear confide.
She does not hide. No, not on this night.

Her outstretched arms
question the supposed limitless oblivion.
For foot by mile, lightyear by revolution,
she has seen everything:

Loves enactment upon re-enactment,
The crying of the lost and lonely infant,
the rodent's of the night that creep and crawl along
a city's cobblestone streets,
and she has seen two worlds fall asleep
time and time again.

The moon has already heard forever
yet each night she listens to a different tune.

The moon is forever.
The light and the wise coccoon.

sadness.
twisting and coiling its way,
around my frail heart.
sending its deep poison in
through its jeering fangs.

it numbs me.

sweet numbness,
take me away,
to the valley of all things
unfeeling and
uncaring.

i want to know no strength
i want to feel no pain.

sweet poison,
infiltrate my heart,
make me numb.
i am nothing but dead to the world.

because that is what dead people do.
they open a void that ***** people in,
wrapping their hands in chains of gloom.
they cry for help,
beg for mercy.

fools.
wasting their time.
the numb don't feel anything.
only a cold that spreads
through their body
like a virus,
or some sort of
disease.

spreading through them,
filling their arteries and veins,
until they are numb,
like the cold, grainy sands of the earth
they are numb.
they feel nothing.

sweet snake of sadness,
send your venom.
straight to the heart,
send it quick.

for before death,
there is always a great sadness.

but is death ideal?
do i want to eternally
wander the earth waiting for
the mystical hosanna to call us
all for our last judgement?

is death the only means of permanent numbing known?
i mean, there are drugs.
but do they last?

do we last?

what effect do we leave
on this coccoon,
this shell,
of protection called earth?

what do we leave?
do we leave hatred,
unsettled feelings,
and people in chains of sadness?

or do we leave a sunflower?
a sign of hope, peace.
a sign of looking towards the brighter light?

when you moan
you squeeze my soul of its boundless lust
i pour this in your gaping mouth
my silken tongue funnel our liquids
and slides into the urgency of our craving
flesh gliding against scorched flesh
marinated by our sweat
such power in a scent
only lovers reek in sacred ***.
you are my goddess
and i fall into bottomless pits
of the pleasure and promise
you bring into our coccoon
i fill every orifice of your being
my body is in flames
by the heat of my desire
the sounds and the sights of you
corrupts my last resistance
there is nothing but surrender
the groan of heaven gone amuck
the quivering of membranes
tangled in the throes of your cries
your eyes seizing in explosive release
exhausted, we fall into spent heap
flailed bodies in blissful stupor
of a union so acute
so epic.
all of this happens
when you moan
with your face looking at me,
loving me.

shadows are cast even in sunlight
apex of light, brilliance notwithstanding
there exists a room closed off

no light penetrates
this room, coccoon-like in velvet inky
darkness safely tucked in

remembering shame so powerful
when he pulled me onto his lap
saying, 'you did this'

darkness in the middle of the day
will never see sunlight or
let any light in to stay

The space I am creating for her
The self I want to give to her
When she wants it
The space I want her to have to grow
To be her best self with me
When she is with me
The stars crumble into topaz crystals
Butterflies blast out of (Latin name for coccoon)
diamond antennae no mercy for the birds
Slicing every edible chance
nibbling her neck and the thin golden chains
Down the inside of her neck
Down into the depth of possibilities
I don’t want to control something with this much power
It would wear me out
Lose myself and she loses herself
Nothing left but the selfish self
Enforced on us after leaving the comfort behind
Those first lips we went through
out of the womb
out of the lips of ******’s sighs and yells
Out of the vaginal lips into the world
Umbilical
no going back now severed
Hearts resonate from anywhere
Even though this space seems in between
I appreciate her focus on what she is doing
It is a **** space that is happening
Reserve builds up the power of the heart

The reserve is the quality of life
My perspective on life
Is the background of the fires I have made
violence itself is like killing the dead
The jazz I come from is steroids for the soul
Communication is invincible !
Exorcising whiteness
Going through years of my poetry for a publisher
I almost called the police on myself for being too black
Every time I write a poem
I think the world is going to end right before I finish it
Is this healthy
Understanding how much power you have harnessed
from being so close to death so many times
I asked death to dance
On the shiny crowded dance floor
We got down all night
I was trying to make eye contact
As she was telling me about herself
But I couldn’t help thinking
Does she know there are people
Investing in the most efficient ways
To get rid of us
Definitely me and my brutal black mind
I nodded still

coccoon of silence, absence of sound
comfortable as softest cotton
alone with myself, I am found
content with all my thoughts
cacophony of the outside world
is stilled behind my private walls

I want, I need to let you in
caution always prevails

Envy is a glass window
it shows you places you want to go
but you can't
and you get angered at everyone out distant
You see them as strong as an ant
while you're a just coccoon,
of envy staring out at the moon
hoping you can get out soon
and it makes you sad
that everything outside is good, but inside is bad
hoping this is just a fad
if you have to, the window you'll break
because your happiness is at stake
and your smiles are fake
want want want
it all feels like a taunt
because you can't move through glass

The grief-beast wakes different today.
This is not the cold, creaky ache of bannister limbs in winter
No, this time it's the warmth of my parents' rocking chair, walnut and familiarity and an exoskeleton of memory and fairytale intertwined with the weight of a loss that sits heavy on my lap, immobilising but I'm in no mood to leave the sadness of my seat.
And though it hurts and it burns and it erodes at my insides
I accept it, resigned for the moment and resolve to leave this safe coccoon another day when the world seems less formidable and my coarse exterior more malleable
to new life and fresh growth

Soil enwraps my eye
That I hardly see debris of truth
For I am coccoon in a shroud of terruric
Rays of poverty injection

So I choose to mastermind
My liberation as a jihadist course
Making my opposers pay for their sin
For it's the will of divine

I profess with indoctrination of small portion
As I cast voodoo of ignorance lotion
Upon my mind so it burns in elation
As I give in to suicidal notion

I await a divine gift of virgnity relation
Where my earthly reaction
Gives me unending position
Adorn without damnation

In there I laid in peace
As my torn skin pierce
With avidity of divine lies
So I give my eye in pieces

by
Martin Ijir