This isn’t poetry

I wish the words I write were poetry

And not the unholy wail of a caged soul

Banished and branded as satan

When all its sin was to love

But differently, 

And with the kind of madness

That threatened to destroy

Whatever stood in between us

I wish you or I could do something

To stop this

But I have no wings to clip

They pulled and tore every feather out

And walked me naked

But that wasn’t my walk of shame,

All they saw was your name

Engraved on every inch of my flesh

And I can’t fall like Lucifer

I am standing on my feet,

My  ground,

Not yours.


One last time

I want to go through this life

Like a nebulous nebula

Of valour, strength and bright colours,

Exploring uncircumscribed orbits,

Gravitating towards destiny
Adrift, so far from this mundane world

In its shades of grey, hatred and envy,

Out of tune with its blues of rutted routines

And when I spend

All the life

Gushing through my iridescent veins

I want to die like a shooting star

Brilliant, even when it is falling

Blazing, one last time