You are the very force situated right at the chest that knows nothing of love or hatred
Pumps out every last piece of wandering vitality and supplies infinite solitude of the sacred
swims through the space of the affinity and allow blood vessels to be cruelly invaded

You are the horrific nerves that encapsulates the vulnerable neck
everything in black that oozed out of the peculiar brains in sacks
Conglomerated around the frail torso and savour every chunk of wine like a sugar cane
Flesh torn my night sky’s tenderness felt all your mesmerising cruelty sane

You are an illness unrecognised a treaty unpromised
a human undefined
Casting random magic spells of the evil on my croaked back like a mastermind
While my knees
blindly bend in front of your imminent whispers and your invisibly-built shrines

You will be the puppet master to my sanity the abandoned child hung at the ceiling
I the ultimate ending to your
the inevitable full-stop to their final
the tranquil death towards
their heavens
god’s prisons
our pandemoniums

26/01/2017 02:49am

//A Painter’s Life//

I was born in a box of paints
That’s how I became a painter

I plan to perish on a paper of blank space
And get buried in my own crummy craze

I do not plan to learn to speak
Would rather choke on sucking the worst politician’s filthy feet

I wish to conquer the most spectacular beetle
And crush it hard along with my favourite burrito

I recognise every single colour
And find it ridiculous how the obnoxious tint of black fill up my feather

I am not sophisticated
I merely have the habit of getting living humans refrigerated

I don’t have a father
Sometimes I craft infants out of my mother’s leather

No I do not smoke or drink
Nor do I think

I sleep in the daylight
My imaginary doctor says it’d heal my acute sight and my abhorrent fright

Oh I once fell in love
Then my pencils learnt to stab throats tough

I still live in the same box of paints
I stopped painting
They say I never began either

18/01/2017 05:46am