Stuck in a stall reserved for foaling mares, intentionally.
Galloping over gallopers' shit, rotten pickles of mission mustang,
Foals with eight legs, horseflesh sandwiches,
Steeds and stallions in two dimensions.
The dark in open eyes, which see everything of the dark nothing
Searching for the fruit, managing a façade of light
That like farasi bahari* eludes all men
Mares left in hopes of mating, she the emerald galloper,
My heart the mare.
The door, I see the apple- her,
No snakes to blame for demoralizing,
For doubt in the heart is sin's farm, wait the water-
And my string runs me over.
Are horseshoe tattoos trendy in hell?
~Ajay
29/12/17
*In certain mythologies,, These magical, green water horses that live at the bottom of the Indian Ocean. They graze near the coast during certain days of the year. People leave their horses near this area and remove themselves hoping that the Farasi Bahari will mate with their steeds. No one can come near them because they flee at the scent of man. If any horses are successfully mated, they will produce green horses that gallop fast with eternal endurance due to their lack of lungs.
