Fathoming Selfishness

Once, a long time ago, he was broken.
Verbal sticks and stones,
They broke his soul.

His scars split to his skin
Like the crackled Earth calling
For the rain.
Not a drop came.

Drought
wrought
-almost to rot

And then he saw her

She came breezing by...
And her sultry sweat rubbed off on him.
As she pranced through the dusty streets,
She left colour in her wake

He ran.
He bought himself a crimson shirt.
He sprayed himself with eau de regret
And offered himself to Ephemeral Effervescence.

She obliged.
Today, some thirty years hence,
Ephemeral has settled down
And opened a cafe – for one.

He now sports shirts of different colours.
Always bright when he goes outside.
But that parched soul has lifted slowly with the wind
Granule by granule
And today, he is just a red case,
With a red neck
And no-body to speak of.

Nothing Do U

your mind is philosophy.
your loyalty epically stays in love
and you love me in a way that
safely feels something like ‘prophetic.’
you see things in my soul
that elude my ordinary eyes
and i can feel it deeply when we talk.
it is in the way you casually lean your body
towards mine and then talk half-asleep,
it is in that unutterable way you look at me when no one is around,
it is in the sweetly serious way you say we should
talk a lot so that we don’t float past each other like space men
but rather grow together entwined.
i like it when we talk and your delightful mind
sparkles in conversation and your short white teeth
reveal a sweet, rare smile behind full, dark lips because simply put - when we are together, notin’ do u.
...you are now pressing hard against me.
and in your face i see
a fineness raw, exciting yet gentle.
all in one deliciously dark, square-jawed face...

...for there’s a fluid storm rising and billowing like harmattan
behind your pair of marble eyes.