To She
who whet
the corven wing,
her skin pulled back
an open firth unraveling
her scarlet mood

the first
among the thirsting.

To Her
that swallowed whole,
the rye, the blade
that clipped the startled shoulder,
carpal deep in gleaming brine,
who shivered time a potent pleasure,

Garlanding
the golden hurt,
that life was
never hers..

Beholden to
a tethered ransom
rivered in her stars...

Am I reminding you that I exist?
Why do I take on that task?
I should be embedded
In your brain
In your veins
Like you are in mine

Empty
It’s what I feel
Lonely and stolen
Like I don’t belong
Trampling over breaths
I started to exist
But it wrenched out
To another trail
Another road
And I tried
To hope
Again

Landfall...

a progress
nipped by headwind,
though his bullish heart
has flickered clear of drowning,

so he's dusting down
Saharan surplus, hawking
off the sea-sick yachts,
ensconced in royal chiffon,

appealing for that magnet-tug
along the pollen flyways
pulling homeward..

and
I wonder
if he sees me,
-mid shipped twitter
post Johannesburg-

a gurning
plate of swan-necked
adulation, craning skyward

that I should pin
my yearnings to his
cloud-encrusted orbits
caws of folly..

more fanciful
than summer being
borne upon his wings...

Don't remember when we were friends.
Don't remember faking happiness in my presence and your vain personas in my despicable hand.
Dont remember any smiles or laughter that were passed.
Dont remember my name or your ruthless plans.
Dont remember me because in reality you were never there.
Dont remember me because I'm less valueless than wallpaper or a chair.
Dont remember any good that was ever instilled.
******* all I hope you all rot without any good will.