Bewilderedness
there are days you wander in between trunks of trees in the darkest forest imbedded in your veins. you wished plucking your two lens out of their sockets; wanting not to behold avid zombies climbing the stoops of your spine. sometimes you’d make a wish of escaping from the cells in your body. for your body has become a thing that’s too heavy to be carried by your tongue. so you can’t call its name. home no longer inhabits your mouth. for your body is not yours but a property of a different creature: you. there are days you begin to live betwixt two extremes— you can’t lie on your back neither your belly nor sit on your buttocks. other times you offer prayers for the ground to move its two lips far apart & consume you. or best, the earth and everything be crumpled up like a piece of paper, including you.
Lovely Death Race
relationship is a lovely death race
a horror film
in Monrovia,
falling in love with a girl means you inherit
all her troubles and distresses.
on valentine’s day,
a girl sews her lips to her man’s
and demands:
he sucks up all the filthy things inside of her house & make it his
suicide is a faceless troubadour:
give a boy love
and watch him choke himself to death.
the quickest way to end a boy’s life without serving him pain
is to give him happiness: a girl he loves and so desires
a lifeguard once drowned himself
because his lover asked him
to be water
to fit into her very life threatening suffocating container
fact: relationship was a smooth seesaw kind of thing
where two persons seated on it/ lift each other one at a time—
u n t i l
it came to my country
and became a one sided bullshit!
Drowning Soul
i
this body is good
from the outside:
smiling to heartbeats of pretense
dancing to random beats
and to every random of nature it dances
deep down the corners of this body
lies pits deeper than the great rift valley
engulfed by quiet laughter
ii
this body is a container
of joy and bliss
torments and neglects:
this body has refilled itself
it is cracked
suffering the kind gestures of tornadoes
it is a map of potholes, scars and bruises
iii
this body is shallow
hollow
sinking
drowning
with the head almost swallowed
by ravaging depression
this body is sinking:
nobody cares
wave,
wave,
wave your hands above the head
Abuoya Eruot writes from Paynesville, Liberia. He’s a budding poet and a worshipper of music, who gathers muse from personal experiences, happenings in society, and nature. His works have been published in Praxis Magazine, Eboquills, Odd Magazine and elsewhere.
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