image source: pixabay.com
A PORTRAIT OF WHO I AM FIGHTING LONELINESS
Tonight seems to come self arrested.
Incarcerated by distorted heart of man— I mean a man like me. My heart.
I can hear the silent inhale & exhale of my dog
Down my bed bunk—Last night was for her & her grief. Alone.
I look deep into my wardrobe with all seriousness of heart to find nothing serious. The truth is I don’t know what I’m looking for. The truth is
I don’t think I’m looking for anything.
That’s just how I’ve learned to keep my mind insecure. It’s how I’ve craved for disorder. I mean. I hate it when lullaby put me straight to sleep.
It hurts my bride. & I am
Trying not to go to sleep that way tonight again.
It’s raining outside now. A little touch of it is reaching for my window & trotting it.
I wonder why it’s taking too long today. & Why it’s coming in so livid & fierce. It’s obvious nature acts just like man like me— we’re all trying to harvest sympathy
from all where we can get them. Always.
The rain is forming into something that looks like me, the dog & itself. & I’m happy about it for the first time. Not because it’s raining.
Or because its lividness is making my window lose itself.
I’m happy tonight because I have a consoler. The rain. & It has me too. & We have
ourselves. & The dog. has nothing. but itself alone. & alone.
KNEE ON THE NECK
I will tell you this body is gasoline — at least From the start— Before you get burnt in bemusement Of what keeps us [me as legion] hopping toward a flowing river with tied hands & chained legs. I know myself as fire. Because there are so many things in Form of ashes within me. & Most time, while seated at the Balcony, on days breeze trott down the street, I could decode all what it says of my body as it falls in. That there Is a knee pressed towards a neck, a blockage pinned on a Throat. It’s an identity for a caged bird that sings all day long Just to itself. Because no one else cares to listen or want it fly. And of course, no one cares to know what its songs carry. For as long as it stays in the cage, it serves it purpose. & That bird is me, crying into my days about things
I can’t tell no one, except myself.
Abioye Samuel Akorede is a poet and an undergraduate student of University of Jos, Nigeria. Some of his works have been featured in anthologies & others are forthcoming in magazines such as Kalahari review, Parousia, EroGospel, The Quills journal, myaceworld & elsewhere.
- TAGS
- Abioye Samuel Akorede
- Poetry
