There are days When you feel Like running away And the desperation Crawls into your Bones, until it Is no longer A want, but More a need The desert sun Is often unforgiving Your bare feet Have known hardship And poverty isn't Exactly unfamiliar territory.
But today feels Different, maybe it Is different The heat seeps Into your skin This is what It must feel Like, to walk Through hot lava Every step feels Like a battle And the promised Land is far Away, much too Far away.
Every now and Then, a cool Gust of wind Comes along, like A flickering flashlight And you pray For it to Stay a little Longer, but no Light shines forever Still you stagger Forward, one step At a time Wondering how many Heartbeats does it Take to reach The oasis from The acacian shade?
Numbness now forbids the fingers To bang their captive heads Against a keyboard of guilty letters. Each one cowers in the fear Of being tapped and slotted As a defaulter of expression And winces to every touch Of a ruthless inspiration.
Graves seem to have started walking Below my still feet Whispering to my toes The ode of the withering roses. Bits of a rotting shroud seem To stick to my toenails Like the black nail paint Turning odourless once it dries. I may try to rub it off With the remaining glint in my eyes But it seems more than the spark, The shroud has fallen for the dark That my eyeballs fail to hide.
She steals the stars From your eyes Collecting them Like fairy dust and fireflies Sealing them in her jar Of seized moonshine Illuminating her own Blackened heart Shrouding you in dark
You won't see her coming She'll swoop in When you're most happy During bewitching hours Your pupils twinkle Between nonchalant smiles
Blink once and you'll miss Her malevolent wink When she drains Your last remaining light Tearing through your sight You might feel weak after No more joy in laughter Walking life colorblind Gifting you noir As you become the night