THE SCENT OF A MANOne smells like old books, another like aloe vera with a touch of burnt flesh, one like woody cologne, one like cigarettes, but his scent is sweet like melon, and he tastes like salt, milk, sourdough. When his skin sizzles in the pan, the sweat popping like grease, you sprinkle pepper allowing the shots of spit to bite your exposed wrist. Darling, melt and devour all of him—a meal worth the indigestion, the fight, the price. THE HUNGER OF A MAN One should not eat the apple core, the banana peel, the pit of a cherry for these are meant for the trash, but once you met a man who ate the whole apple; as if he were the disposal to carry away all discarded things, to find fodder in everything. OASIS
This morning you remembered him: dark gray buttoned-down shirt, black pants and eyes-- black like buttons. You thought him angry, but then he touched your thigh. In a classroom-- the teacher eyeing you two from the front of the room-- under the desk, your hand reached for his crotch, then you kissed. The taste of apricots and peaches filled your mouth; his tongue, a giant seed. You were reprimanded and sent to the hall. Alone, he brushed your hand away. Under the pillow, you find no fruit; across from the bed, no dusty chalkboard, only the large mirror reflecting the wall.
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What’s Inside My HeartWhat’s inside my heart is unraveled sorrows between regrets leaves from the trees of my honesty to the people I love the most What’s inside my heart are arteries living on my ache’s bad habits that could be a cure with eyes weeping every day I have no choice to stay healthy What’s inside my heart is dead love birds in cages and drowned sailors in an unsinkable boat which explains why I wear glasses to enjoy my life in the colour of the clouds What’s inside my heart is a miserable river that floods in my burning dreams in my hopeless life meanwhile, the other side is still a rock, paper, scissors memory My Relationship with The Last Day of My LifeLately I started having a close relationship with the last day of my life right after, death will collect my spirit somewhere near the broken gates of hell I recalled two young girls, laughing like headless chickens in the cage of Animal Farm, while George Orwell is alerting them from the danger of the wild pigs I remembered the tailor told me that he sewed my first cloth and will use the same thread and needle to sew my last coffin in case, if I will ever be reborn again the first day, I went to school all the kids were playing and laughing but not me, I was dreaming of the swing that I was sitting on it as it seemed the cords` will hang me one day I cried before, today, and tomorrow not because I want to rest a bit longer. I wept for realizing that death will be the solution to end the darkness that will sings for the last time above my tomb Without a MouthI asked my parents why the moon and sun exist without a mouth, and live with grief in their eyes my father said because mankind lies to each other every day, below the sincere sunshine then my mother said because mankind betrays To each other quickly and shamelessly under the moonlight today, I am lonely my parents are divorced, they lied and betrayed me and so I am a star by the raining clouds The Time TravellerIf I had a time machine
I would not go the dark part that built me up sad; or ahead to my unknown destiny and fearful future I would take it and go with it to the cemetery to bring me back to the last moments of my friends and see what the solution could be instead of staring at their photos I would then walk to my parents with it and see if they could fix what they damaged for myself and my siblings, As I still hate the way they taught me how to cry, far away from the tomb of my homeland to this day, I feel I have been adopted to a woman who she deeply loves me meanwhile, I always look for a hammer a few nails, to hook my dreams above the broken bridge, with a prayer from my falling tears
Magician’s Hubris |
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