(supposing life is inherently black, like the
shadows od his hair) suppose life
clicks into place on your lips and kills all colour -
- the peachy pink of your cushiony lips,
and edges into your mouth to burn
the thick red plush of your tongue,
turning it into the deep blackness of letters on snowing white pages.
now, suppose life sings the most meloncholy of all songs,
and draws blood through the eyes like
drawing a purely blue kiss from your tongue.
glitter black sparkles singing from life's cavern of a mouth.
obscene lyrics and drum beats and guitars like
nails scratching on a blackboard.
(so, supposing life lives within each one of us,
watch the sun drool its eggy rays on us,
the wind hobble around everyone,
the blue sky unravel and expose loose stitches,
just think about what life truly is.
think twice about dancing in the sunlight,
spreading your arms in the wind and exhibiting your vulnerability,
about kissing in the rain.
for black life could be biding its time,
baring its teeth and licking its lips,
picking you out with its blood-red radar.)
why else do you think i sleep within the shadows?
written: Thursday 1st April, 2004.