To the FAM

As various voices presented on a single mic
Giving birth to one solid sound
through speakers near a listener passing by...
We are one on this.

As dread locks rooted on a single head
we come in different heights and different ways
Even though we stil regard this head as our primary base.

The artisans of words
with the labour of our heads portraide through carfts that i call notions and thoughts,
that never seem to fill to the brim
 this ocean that somehow seems to have a lick.

my unaudible gratitudes i present as a lament to its lick
because through it
 you and i were given an opportunity to exist.

The frequent drops narrate how youe way and mines converged
in this wilderness of words
like deserts with their plenty sands.

We indeed have got one mind but with different thoughts
and somehow we got magneted into being one,
 you would swear that we were particles that were hapazardly scattered.

"She dont know that she makes makes me feel like this"

SHE COPMLETES ME

LIKE A STRAIGHT LINE TAKING OFF FROM 0 DEGEERS OF A CURTASIAN PLANE, PROGESSING TO FINISH A CIRCLE ON 360

THAT LINE WHICH MY HEART KEEP SKIPING ON WHEN EVER IT JUMPS FOR A BEAT

THAT FACTOR WHICH CAUSES ME TO BEAM WITH A YOUTHFUL SMILE

UNSACASTICALY REALISING THE LIVELYNESS WHICH CAVES MY RIBS

Each second that passes continuing with time

SHE IS THAT RAY THAT Escaped FROM THE SCENTRE OF THE SUN

WILLINGLY NARATING, THE FRUITFULNESS OF THE UTERUS THAT KEPT IT FOR 36 WEEKS

HER CUDDLE I PREFER AS IT PRISON

 my “prison”

Giving me liberty that suppases my argumentative reason

Attaching me to her personality more than her outer appearance

Like infants caught on their bellies by umbilical cords

She recites a story that is constantly settled on a climax

I just keep eagering for more