And now this oil
painting has
posterized my depression,
littered with these halftone dots that
sink their teeth into my
brown skin until I bleed
for their love
and yearn for the pain
they inflict upon me,
but at some point
it gets tiring and the
dark circles
under my eyes say the same
as I look
into the mirror and pay
heed to this
ugliness filled with
tantrums so utterly
masked that
they take over my face
to make it look
worn and evacuated
from life,
so I turn
my gaze away and again
I get swept in my ideals
so much that I forget
the purpose of this prose
and now I tumble
back into
this abyss of not knowing
where to look,
how to see,
what to explore;—
and now my prowess
has been halted
by these leopards
which bare their
claws at me and bring me
to stand victim to their
odious cries
of hollowed tears while
the snowstorm descends
upon me
drops of rufescence and
my waterfall mane
is caressed by the hands of
this stupendous wind,
and I pray for the finish
of this fiasco for I
am but a weak
islander
who wishes for things
she cannot reach and I
deserve not this
treatment
like hands enclosing
around my throat
rendering me so hefty a death.
YOU ARE READING
an abstract limn
Poésie❝ but this time i will not be lifted from the realms of this catastrophe, this time i will be dipped into the honeyed lox of this saccharine thought; drowning in the depths of the wilted tulips that have not ever to sprout. look at these alstroemeri...
