Infamous praise

How many fingers should I count
Before I cut them one by one
I forget sometimes,
How some things don’t really re-grow


Just the other day
I was photographed with great admiration
In a cage
By a monkey
Who got so bored of its freedom
That it kept mine
I laughed
At how he fell
On banana peels he just ate himself


On nights
I shrunk and burst into fireworks
By chameleons getting tired of their own colours
Now white, now safe.
Had only albinos seen them, for the screams that curled their tails


Evenings passed,
I marveled at how a blazing sun
Took shade on all its pink
And mist
And chaos
Before going to sleep
Was this its way of telling
It wanted out?
If beauty and power and control
Didn’t make it want to live
Neither did I


I often lose myself
When sniffing on corners
Trying to allocate
Dust with dust
And perk with perk
I didn’t recall ever, catching pollen’s grin
So much had happened, it had forgotten its air, grain, trigger
And influence
Over those neglecting theirs


How naive was I
For the stain was on my face
And all my life, I spent tugging my mirrors clean


If you could view my face
From paper bags
And man made flasks
Would you find it funny
If I collapsed
On the floor teaching me dance?


Can somebody else ride this bike for me?
It can’t seem to stop
Pedaling away from me
As if
It wanted to escape
The rubber wanting to split
And the wheels fiercely brim
On fluctuating landscapes
It wanted to be
On its own


The hair
You tucked behind your ears
Felt like a slam on the door
By the secrets that rose ashore
that waves washed away.
Can I empty my pockets
With the stones I’ve been collecting
Trying to give them meaning over
Solid future?
Silly me, for most had gone
Through this pocket betrayed by a hole
They flew free from


And the whole world rose to its feet
When I kneeled down to my street
Too many times
Did I carve its walls
With battles I won but lost
I vandalized
And raged on meat
Using it as punch bag
To admit defeat
Far more
Did I cause alarm
Over my neighbours door
When I prank called his mother in the hospital
Telling her he was dead
I shot pigeons with creamed feathers
Because the view of their opened wings
Made me empty bottles
Which I later used to abuse
The wrists these veins explained their name on
Its dead end
Was all I kept clean
For I knew no matter what
It would still wait for me
And shelter me some sleep
And that’s when I dreamt of you
Like a nightingale with the bluest beak
Poking my head
Reassuring me
That the walls I tore down
Were already weak
They were replaced by height
That shooed away the floods
Nobody could have anticipated
That the meat I didn’t let my people eat
Was from cattle that they didnt feed
That the neighbours I disturbed
Needed to meet, all the songs they had produced
And sung
In reverse
That the flocks of beauty
I prevented everyone else from adoring
Blurred out all the skies
That had truly let them fly
And the empty bottles
Were my quill
When it wrote not on paper
But my skin


And just like that it rose
With a seed between its beak
To what I woke up
And found my distant home.

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Published by

S.K.

This right here, keeps me sane. You will find here, sincere thoughts mixed up with a subconscious trying to fuck it all up. I hope you understand.

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