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Song one
This is a song about tarzanic love
That subsisted some years ago,
As a love duel between an English girl and an African ogre,
There was an English girl hailing along the banks of river Thames
She had stubbornly refused all offers for marriage,
From all the local English boys, both rich and poor
tall and short, weak or strong, ugly and comely in the eye,
the girl had refused and sternly refused the treats for love,
She was disciplined to her callous pursuit of her dream
to marry a mysterious,fantastic,lively,original and extra-ordinary man,
That no other woman in history of human marriage ever married,
She came from London, near the banks of river Thames,
Her name was Victoria Goodhamlet Lovehill, daughter of a peasant,
She came from a humble English family, which hustled often
For food, clothing, and other calls that make one an ordinary British,
She grew up without a local boy friend, anywhere in the English world,
She is the first English girl to knock the age of forty five while a ******,
She never got deflowered in her teens as other English girls usually do
She preserved her purse with maximal carefulness in her wait for a black man,
Her father, of course a peasant, his trade was human barber and horse shearer,
Often asked her what she wants in life before her marriage, which man she really wanted,
Her specification was an open eyesore to her father; no blinkers could stave the father’s pale
For she wanted a black tall man, strong and ruggedly dark in the skin, must own a kingdom,
Fables taken to her from Africa were that such an African man was only one but none else,
His glorious name was Akhatembete kho bwibo khakhalikha no bwoya,
When the English girl heard the chimerical name of her potential husband,
She felt a super bliss in her spine; she yearned for the day of her rendezvous,
She crashed into desperate burning for true English love
With a man with a wonderful name like Akhatembete kho bwibo khakhalikha no bwoya.


Song two

Rumours of this English despair and dilemma for love reached Africa, in the wrong ears,
Not the human ears, but unfortunately the ears of the ogres, seasoned in the evil art,
It was received and treated as classified information among the African ogress,
They prevented this news to leak to African humans at all at all
Lest humans enjoy their human status and enjoy most
The love in the offing from the English girl,
They thus swiftly plotted and ployed
To lure and win the ******
From royal land;
England.




Song three

Firstly, the African ogres recruited one of their own
The most handsome middle aged male ogre, more handsome than all in humanity,
And of course African ogres are beautiful and handsome than African humans, no match,
The ogres are more gifted in stature, physique, eugenics and general overtures
They always outplay African humans on matters of intelligence, they are shrewder,
Ogres are aggressive and swashbuckling in manners; fear is none of their domain
Craft and slyness is their breakfast, super is the result; success, whether pyrrhic or Byronic,
Is their sweetest dish, they then schemed to get the English girl at whatever cost,
They made a move to name one of their fellow ogres the name of dream man;
Akhatembete khobwibo khakhalikha no bwoya,
Which an English girl wanted,
By viciously naming one of their handsome middle-aged man this name.

Song four

Then they set off 0n foot, from Congo moving to the north towards Europe abode England,
Where the beautiful girl of the times, Victoria Goodhamlet Lovehill hail,
They were three of them, walking funnily in cyclopic steps of African ogres,
Keeping themselves humorously high by feigning how they will dupe the girl,
How they will slyly decoy the English village pumpkin of the girl in to their trap,
And effortlessly make her walk on foot from England to Africa, in pursuit of love
On this muse and sweet wistfulness they broke out into loud gewgaws of laughter,
In such emotional bliss they now jump up wildly forgetting about their tails
Which they initially stuffed inside white long trousers, tails now wag and flag crazily,
Feats of such wild emotions gave the ogres superhuman synergy to walk cyclopically,
A couple of their strides made them to cross Uganda, Kenya, Somali, Ethiopia and Egypt
Just but in few days, as sometimes they ran in violent stampedes
Singing in a cryptic language the funny ogres songs;

Dada wu ndolelee!
Dada wu ndolelee!
Kuyuni kwa mnja
Sa kwingile khundilila !

Ehe kuyuni Mulie!
Ehe kuyuni mulie!
Omukhana oyo
Kaloba khuja lilia !
They then laughed loudly, farted cacophonously and jumped wildly, as if possessed,
They used happiness and raucous joy as a strategy to walk miles and miles
Which you cover when moving on foot from Congo to England,
They finally crossed Morocco and walked into Europe,
They by-passed Italy and Spain walking piecemeal
into England, native land of the beautiful girl.

Song  five

When the three ogres reached England, they were all surprised
Every woman and man was white; people of England walked slowly and gently
They made minimum noise, no shouting publicly on the street,
a stark contrast to human behaviour and ogre culture in Africa, very rambunctious,
Before they acclimatized to disorderly life in England, an over-sighted upset befell them
Piling and piling menace of pressure to ****,
Gripped all the three ogre brothers the same time,
None of them had knowledge of municipal utilities,
They all wanted to micturated openly
Had it not been beautiful English girls
Ceaselessly thronging the streets.



Song six

They persevered and moved on in expectation of coming to the end,
Out-skirt of the strange English town so that they can get a woodlot,
From where they could hide behind to do open defecation
All was in vain; they never came to any end of the English town,
Neither did they come by a tumbled-down house
No cul de sac was in sight, only endless highway,
Sandwiched between tall skyscraping buildings,
One of the ogres came up with an idea, to drip the ****
Drop by drop in their *******, as they walk to their destiny,
They all laughed but not loudly, in controlled giggles
And executed the idea minus haste.

Song seven

They finally came down to the banks of river Thames,
Identified the home of Victoria Goodhamlet Lovehill
The home had neither main gate nor metallic doors,
They entered the home walking in humble majesty,
Typical of racketeering ogre, in a swindling act,
The home was silent, no one in sight to talk to
The ogres nudged one another, repressing the mirth,
Hunchbacked English lass surfaced, suddenly materialized
Looking with a sparkle in the eye, talking pristine English,
Like that one written by Geoffrey Chaucer, her words were as piffling
As speech of a mad woman at the fish market, ogres looked at her in askance.

Song eight

An ogre with name Akhatembete khobwibo khakhalikha nobwoya opened to talk,
Asked the girl where could be the latrine pits, for micturation only,
The hunchbacked lass gave them a direction to the toilets inside the house,
She did it in a full dint of English elegance and gentility,
But all the ogres were discombobulated to their peak
about the English latrine pit inside the house,
they all went into the toilet at the same time,
to the chagrin of the hunchbacked lass
she had never seen such in England
she struggled a lot
to repress her mirth
as the English
never get amused
at folly.




Song nine

It is a tradition among the ogres to ****,
Whenever they are ******* in the African bush,
But now the ogres are in a fix, a beautiful fix of their life
If at all they ****, the flatulent cacophony will be heard outside
By the curious eavesdroppers under the eaves of the house,
They murmured among themselves to tighten their **** muscles
So that they can micturated without usual African accomplice; the tweeee!
All succeeded to manage , other than Akhatembete khobwibo khakhalikha nobwoya,
Who urinated but with a low tziiiiiiii sound from his ***, they didn’t laugh
Ogres walked out of privities relaxed like a catholic faithful swallowing a sacrament,
The hunchback girl ushered them to where they were to sit, in the common room
They all sat with air of calm on their face, Akhatembete Khobwibo khakhalikha nobwoya,
led the conversation, by announcing to the girl that he is Victoria’s visitor from Africa,
To which the girl responded with caution that Victoria is at the barbershop,
Giving hand to her father in shearing the horses, and thus she is busy,
No one is allowed to meet her, at that particular hour of the day
But he pleaded to the hunchback girl only to pass tidings to Victoria,
That Akhatembete Khobwibo khakhalikha nobwoya from Africa
Has arrived and he is yearning to meet her today and now,
The girl went bananas on hearing the name
The hunch on her back visibly shook,
Is like she had heard the name often,
She then became prudent in her senses,
And asked the visitor not to make anything—
Near a cat’s paw out of her person,
She implored the visitor to confirm
if at all he was what he was saying
to which he confirmed in affirmation,
then she went out swiftly
like a tail of the snake,
to pass tidings
to her sister
Victoria.


Song ten
She went out shouting her sister’s name,
A rare case to happen in England,
One to make noise in the broad day light,
With no permission from the local leadership,
She called and ululated Victoria’ name for Victoria to hear
From wherever she was, of which she heard and responded;
What is the matter my dear little sister? What ails you?
Akhatembete Khobwibo khakhalikha nobwoya is around!
She responded back in voice disturbed by emotional uproar,
What! My sister why do you cheat me in such a day time?
Am not cheating you my sister, he is around sited in our father’s house,
Is he? Have you given him a drink, a sweet European brandy?
My sister I have not, I feared that I may mess up your visitors
With my hunched shoulders, I feared sister forbid,
Ok, I am coming, running there, tell him to be patient,
Let me tell him sister just right now,
And make sure you come before his patience is stretched.





Song eleven

Victoria Goodhamlet Lovehill almost went berserk
On getting this good tidings about the watershed presence,
Of the long awaited suitor, her face exploded into vivacity,
Her heart palpitating on imagination of finally getting the husband,
She went out of the barber shop running and ululating,
Leaving her father behind, confounded and agape,
She came running towards her father’s main house
Where the suitor is sited, with the chaperons,
She came kicking her father’s animals to death,
Harvesting each and every fruit, for the suitor,
She did marvel before she reached where the suitor was;
Harvested ten bananas, mangoes and avocadoes,
Plums, pepper, watermelons, lemons and oranges,
She kicked dead five chicken, five goats, rams,
Swine, rabbits, rats, pigeons and hornbills,
When she reached the house, she inquired to know,
Who among them could be the one; Akhatembete Khobwibo
Khakhalikha no bwoya, But her English vocals were not guttural enough,
She instead asked, who among you is a key tempter go weevil car no lawyer?
The decoy ogre promptly responded; here I am the queen of my heart. He stood up,
Victoria took the ogre into her arms, whining; babie! Babie, babie, come!
Victoria carried the ogre swiftly in her arms, to her tidy bed room,
She placed the ogre on her bed, kissed one another at a rate of hundred,
Or more kisses per a minute, the kissing sent both of them crazy, but spiritual craft,
That gave the ogre a boon to maintain some sobriety, but libido of virginity held Victoria
In boonless state of ****** feat, defenseless and impaired in judgment
It extremely beclouded her judgment; she removed and pulled of their clothes,
Libidinous feat blurring her sight from seeing the scarlet tail projecting
From between the buttocks of the ogre, vestige of *******,
She forcefully took the ogre into her arms, putting the ogre between her legs,
The ogre’s uncircumcised ***** effectively penetrated Victoria’s ****** purse,
The ogre broke virginity of Victoria, making her to feel maximum warmth of pleasure
As it released its germinal seed into her body, ecstasy gripped her until she fainted,
The ogre erected more on its first *******; its ***** became more stiff and sharp,
It never pulled out its ***** from the purse of Victoria, instead it introduced further
Deeper and deeper into Victoria’s ******, reaching the ****** depth inside her with gusto,
Victoria screamed, wailed, farted, scratched, threw her neck, kissed crazily and ******,
On the rhythms of the ogre’s waist gyrations, it was maximum pleasure to Victoria,
She reached her second ****** before the ogre; it took further one hour before releasing,
Victoria was beaten; she thought she was not in England in her father’s house
She thought she was in Timbuktu riding on a mosquito to Eldorado,
Where she could not be found by her father whatsoever,
The ogre pulled Victoria up, helped her to dress up,
She begged that they go back to the common room,
Lest her father finds them here, he would quarrel,
They went back to the common room,
Found her father talking to other two ogres,
She shouted to her father before anyone else,
That ‘father I have been showing him around our house,’
‘He has fallen in love with our house; he is passionate about it,’
Akhatembete khobwibo khakhalikha nobwoya was shy,
He greeted the father and resumed his chair, with wryly dignity.


Song twelve
An impromptu festival took place,
Fully funded by the father of Victoria,
There was meat of all type from pork to chicken,
Greens were also there in plenty, pepper and watermelons,
Victoria’s mother remembered to prepare tripe of a goat
For the key visitant who was the suitor; Akhatembete,
Food was laid before the ogres to enjoy themselves,
As all others went to the other house for a brainstorming session,
But the hunched backed girl hid herself behind the door,
To admire the food which visitors were devouring,
As she also spied on the table manners of the visitors, for stories to be shared,
Perhaps between herself and her mother, when visitors are gone,
Some sub-human manners unfolded to her as she spied,
One of the ogres swallowed a spoon and a table fork,
And Akhatembete khobwibo khakhalikha nobwoya,
Uncontrollably unstuffed his scarlet tail from the trouser,
The chill crawled up the spine of hunchbacked girl,
She almost shouted from her hideout, but she restrained herself,
She swore to herself to tell her father that the visitors are not humans
They are superhuman, Tarzans or mermaids or the werewolves,
The ogre who swallowed the spoon remorsefully tried to puke it back,
Lest the hosts discover the missing spoon and cause brouhaha,
It was difficult to puke out the spoon; it had already flowed into the stomach,
Victoria, her father, her mother and her friend Anastasia,
Anastasia; another English girl from the neighborhood,
Whom Victoria had fished, to work for her as a best maid, as a chaperon,
Went back to the house where the ogres had already finished eating,
They found ogres sitting idle squirming and flitting in their chairs
As if no food had ever been presented to them in a short while ago,
One ogre even shamelessly yawned, blinking his eyes like a snake,
They all forgot to say thanks for the food, no thanks for lunch,
But instead Akhatembete announced on behalf of other ogres,
That they should be allowed to go as they are late for something,
A behaviour so sub-human, given they were suitors to an English family,
Victoria’s father was uneasy, was irritated but he had no otherwise,
For he was desperate to have her daughter Victoria get married,
He had nothing to say but only to ask his daughter, Victoria,
If she was going right-away with her suitor or not,
To which she violently answered yes I am going with him,
Victoria’s mother kept mum, she only shot miserable glances
From one corner of the house to another, to the ogres also,
She totally said nothing, as Victoria was predictably violent
To any gainsayer in relation to her occasion of the moment,
Victoria’s father wished them all well in their life,
And permitted Victoria to go and have good life,
With Akhatembete, her suitor she had yearned for with equanimity,
Victoria was so confused with joy; her day of marriage is beholden,
She hurriedly packed up as if being chased by a monster,
Yonas Mengisteab Jan 2019
A lost pearl
Lost!
I wonder it was lost
What do you think?
It was lost!
A school, job, diamond
Gold, or money
Friends, fathers, mothers
Brothers, or sisters
No they are human beings
They deserve to die
And they make mistakes
So what!
Love…………….
Love is dead
Lost forever
It is lived far away from us
And cuts into different parts
So let examine our own hearts
How much we lived through this precious
Love, forever with much happiness


Two things
I cry
I weep
I despair
Again the other day
I enjoy
Happy
Pleasure
Experiencing two different things
Now and then
Here and there

Failed
This statue was done by me
This school was done by me
This mind of children was done by me
Everything was done by me
I boasted myself
Every minute of the days
People along the street
They watched me with their askance eyes
They mumbled, cried
How arrogant I was!
If I could climb to the mountains of pride
Then I would definitely become greed
How silly I am! In my life of deeds
I am doomed.

We blessed Friday, but

God bestowed freedom
On the dawn of Friday
For Eritrean
To have a new day
Our mother ululated
Our father brandishing their hands
School children waves their flags
Then the sky becomes brighter
People gathered from every corner
The birds sing a melodious
The children taste delicious
The sea becomes calmer
Rebuilding the country is our premier
Then we began steadily
Without hesitation
Everything changed
But nowadays,
I am afraid
I heard something bad
People cursed
And murmured to the given freedom
Which is given by almighty God?
Oh! What is wrong?
My fellow people
Do we have prayed?
Which is multiple?
Of three or four
Our freedom
To be reconsider
Absolutely, not
Don’t argue
In the life of God

True love
Love is God
Of eternity
Value of human being
Ever changing society
Decayed of soul, poorer or richer
Overwhelmed by materials
Never afford as good maker
Odorous gratitude
Taken for granted
Ready for good or bad day
Emerging and paving the way
Cuddle in my heart
Obviously, you are best
Reunion in one circle
Determine the best friend
Salute you, thanks indeed
Out of this entire world
Fetish you are, in my soul
We are embraced in one heart
Really it is the beautifulness
Omit the bad spirit
Never gave up a true love
Get ready for any eventuality
Stand up for unity and beauty.

Brag kills you

People are brag
The government is brag
Everybody is brag
Brag, brag, brag,
Flattened themselves in rag
Which is made by their drug?
A drug of ignorance
Of stupidity
Of selfishness
Of unspiritual
But
At the end of the day
They all fall into a ditch
Living in their grave
Like a log
You lived in the everlasting bog.


Poems is my life
Ponder about the life
Oblivious the dumpiness
Emanate from grace
Make the world change
Initially gratitude
Set up in my mind
Master of my life
Yonder that cliff
Love yield in my soul
Intimately grow
Forgetting the appall
Ending you go.

Empty coffer
Oh! My goodness
I have never seen like that
In my life
How corrupted the governor was
When I was a grown up
As a school children
My mother told me
How beautiful of the nation
A nation of sacrifices
Of perseravance
Of unity
Of resilience
They promised us
To do that, to do this
They scheduled timetable
To feed their people
But they never do anything
They go back to square one
Everything is vanished
No more nations with empty coffer
Withoutland
There is no farmer.

My confession
Ah! Is that you?
I know….
I remember you
Listen carefully
I will tell you
It was on June 20, 2010
I met you in Asmara
A unique name of aba shawl
You make me craze
You kept me in bowl
I spent money
To please you
I run always to catch you
I forgot everything
School, job, family
I thought you.
So what do you need now?
Again, you call me
This is not the other of me
I confess
I don’t need you
Let me leave in peace.

Back to square one
I don’t blame you
I don’t rebuke you
I always bless you
I hate of everything
Of bad thinking
You know…
Which leads you?
To the place of despair
You know…
I know you more
This is not from inside of you
Banish the bad behavior
Come back to the life of good deeds
Then you know it
Who leads you?
To the evil of thought
Who kills you?
Bit by bit.

Our mother land

Of all the lands,
Urging and promising to us
Really hold prosperity and peace.

Mother of hero and heroine
Order rehabilitation
Things to change
House to build
Education to flourish
Roads to construct.

Have you ever seen that change yet?
Always talking for nothing
Suspect the people for that being

Beseech for development and democracy
Rolled their sleeves for prosperity
Attest their resistance from enemies
Vows and stands as bees
Endures from excessive animosity
Laying in their country peacefully
Yes we can, were their voices rigorously

Master of all these
Uproot the ignorance
Take off the poverty
Initiate it now,
Let’s do it, was their slogans
Assault us severely
To dismantle us thoroughly
Evolve them in corruption
Destroy the beauty of the nation

Under their rule of administration
Subdued us to blow for their mission
Be my lover
I told you millions times
Not to cross my mental doors
To **** me in the barren fields
I don’t have any pacts
With others
Why not I inside you
You inside me
If I had a true love,
I wouldn’t have told you about the others
Why shouldn’t I
Tell you the truth
I told you millions times
Not to cross my fences
This gems was given to my beloved ones
My soul doesn’t allow
The ****** love
Which is blowing in time of trouble?
That doesn’t resist the strife
Then,   you will lose your life.


Bethlehem  
Be hold of happiness
Enlighten of your kindness
Towards with your fellow friends
Have I wished you great times?
Excel yourself from others
Let me bless you more than this
Hard work and change is must
Endure and protect your heart
Make your future bright.
Smile
We cried
We died
Of   failure
So in times of trouble
Be humble
And innocent
And change the situation
In your favor
Love edifices
Be sacrifices
And smile
A while
Until you drink a cup of success
Don’t give up in despair
Said my brother
“Smile costs nothing
But it creates much.”
Don’t close your doors with latch.












Death
It is a pity
Really sympathy
People are going
In hectic
For they don’t do anything
Life is full of ups and downs
Someone breakthrough
While others falls
Someone they get stayed
Others they frayed
But death
Repose them
To cease their life
And brought them on its emperor
In its territory once for all.

My hero
I promise
I promise not
I thank you
I thank you not
Definitely,
One day
You would become my hero
You light up my darkness
As a teacher,
You pave away the dirt road
As engineer,
You praise me
As pastor,
You are blessed
You are endowed
Thanks god,
So, my dear fellow
Grasp and seize
The intended position
To serve your family and nation
Meanwhile,
Your victory becomes sparkle
Like smile
Then
Everything is fun.
Eleete j Muir Jan 2012
Sagaciously gloaming melanite eyes
Resonating euphoniously ululated memories;
The shadow land of illusion
Rising out of the ash of an acorn
Wallowing in the blood of wars strident refuge,
Gnomic relics errant of an
Enigmatic almondine heart
Offering an olive branch upon an
Altar made of oak.
A ruminantly nostalgic requiem
Sedititiously traversing the firmament;
Ineluctable reprobation
Ineffably manifested,
The doves of meta-morphosis
Embracing the silk garments of love;
Sound minds cacophany
Devouring the delusional devout
Veridically inspiring ascendancy
Decieving serenities whisper throughout
The dominions audaciously
Rousing ambivalent fears.



ELEETE J MUIR.
Alexander  K  Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya; aopicho@yahoo.com)


I had a dream in the wee of the yester-night,
I was sleeping a lone on a reed wick-work of a bed
In my late grandmother’s ruffian thatched hut,
On the bed which she passed on,
On the day of her death,

She had earlier declared the bed a heirloom and memento,
To run among the grand children in her family,
Thus I was a sleep on this bed and began dreaming;

I was in a strange city, I don’t knew it
May be it was Jerusalem or Wales, am not sure,
I was walking on street, ***** and full of garbage,
Each person I met was not concerned with me,
But one woman who showed concern was mad,
She was carrying a grey cat in her arms
She asked me if I were headed to the church,
Before I responded with my awed yes;
She ululated before my eyes in her full feat of madness,
Then a huge building emerged from her red headscarf,
The building swallowed me, inside was maudlin and dull music
Like the one usually sang by christo-pagans
When attending a burial ceremony in Africa,
It was replete with irregular sounds,
Of church! Church! Church!

Riff-raff of human hordes flocked in
All of them looked different from me
Their skin was not smooth, it looked rubicund
Some were laughing, other were making nasal sounds
Not clear to me at all, at all, other made funny shouting sounds;
We are the kingdom of psychopomps, we are psychopompous,
One shot a lightening slap at my cheeks, he snarled at me;
Black discoboli! Jump and fight with our bulls.

I saw two bulls dashing at me; I was at the center of the circle
Formed by my foes, the human oats that came in,
The bulls attacked me with an aim to gore my tummy,
I kicked the bulls with one other kick of a man.

The bulls turned into cats on every kick I threw
Instead of mewing, they went melodramatic,
They began talking to me in Queen’s English,
One  of the cats duped me that; I better **** before we fight further,
I followed command; I pulled out my **** from short my trouser,
I micturated till my bladder was fully empty,
Then I suddenly woke up from sleep,
Only to find out I have terribly wedded by bed.
decipher please
Israel Baker Mar 2016
A man buys a ticket for a show.

The Ticketman says to him,
"I know when the show must start,
and when it must end
and what the audience will wear
and be seen wearing,
but these thing I will not reveal to you."

"How then, will I know when to go?"

"You must be ready always."

So alone he waited for the show to begin,
the costly play upon the narrow stage.

But alas,
his patience had run thin.
He argued with himself,
why did the ticketman deny him knowledge?
making his mind think and his patience thin?

"Mr. Ticketman, may I ask you a question?"

"You already have."

"Why do you deny me the knowledge
of when the show must start
and why do you keep from me
the number of people that will go?"

"...If you were to know these things,
then all would soon know it,
and the show would be crowded
and be full of unwantings."

"Yes, but if only I was told,
I would not tell another,
so long as I lived,
for I would like to know
when I must come, so I can be free
and do what I want before the starting."

"And what is it that makes you so
special from the rest?"

"I have a wish, and I have a feeling.
I want in a deep way, in a very deep way,
to know these things and every day
I thirst and yearn for this simple knowledge."

"All do, you as the rest."

"BUT PLEASE! I HAVE WEPT! Do you not see me weep?"

"As have all."

"I Prithee!!! I am shaking, I shake. I have ululated
in the night and screeched with the force of a
thousand lions."

"As have all."

"Oh! I beg of you! I cannot handle this! I cannot handle it!"

"Nor can any."

"Oh, have mercy! I have a love for freedom, oh I have such a burning desire for freedom. I have cut and cauterized myself and died a million times over! I have called for executioners, I wish to die biting there gut butts! EXECUTE ME!! I have melted in the alleys of the night and I have burned like a star when thinking about, no! Becoming, the heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night. I have seen heaven, I have seen hell. I have seen all things sacred and worthless. I know God. Oh yeah, I know him well. I know his name. I know what you are and who you are! I know you!! You fiend! You self-righteous fiend!!!! TELL ME OR I'LL ******* OFF MYSELF!!!! YOU BEAST!!! YOU ******* BEAST!!!!!!"

"Likely story."
tess Dec 2017
his body: swung in the drippy-foam.   As gunmetal
cements unwavering   bites on his collarbone,
I force myself from    
hunger  and exodus.   maybe i, too  
exit like light,         searching warmth in mouths  
            un-flavored         desolate electricity.
maybe i, too will compress my body into       bruise
and swallow     the excess.
but for what i want is to want        his syllables
leashed around my neck,   peeling the
ululated marks hugged on my belly.        i wait for the flooding
to swell us upstream.

— The End —