Traveling on grounds devoid of life,
Wistfully rummaging through the slapping fingers of my soul,
The emptiness within and around me,
rip roars through me,
And I hear the banished wails of my
parched spirit.
I slip out. I constantly slip out of my body,
Trying to find meaning to the barren
whisper of the soil.
With wheezing plant ears shedding
tired death wishes,
From sordid pants to hysterical nails
which dread the rain’s laughter,
I tremble on the broken lake surface as carcasses fill the air with splinters of damnation.
I burn! I burn! I loudly burn!

The chaotic sun thrills the soil with morbid handshakes,
The chasm in the wind cuts through my skin.
Oh my land, oh my people!
Death paints the barren land with thorns and bones,
And guides the circle of forbidden cursing to kill another.
There’s struggle, the sanctity of life is banished,
As meagre resources cracks my back with absolute lament.
I tremble that the full throttle of
pain will nail me to the ground.
The murmurs of the brutal kiss of dusk
shatters my resolve,
As the fallen manifold of heat emerges to dance on my belly.

Humanity collapses before my languid eyes,
Wasted passion swoons and creeps to the fetters of bondage,
And the gods are scared of my prayers,
For I nestle my soul for another day, yet they see me diminishing.
I am in tribulation and the squeaks of my shoulders resemble a scarecrow’s
on a windy day.
Such is life,
Yet I think I am too young to die, I am too obedient to suffer,
But life’s fling with hades adds a letter daily to my epitaph.
I wail, I wail till I wail blurness and it takes my dry throat to remind me of chances.
The storm is too heavy and scavengers parade around me for their next meal.

© Eddy Ongili


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