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History

They will shoot you down for your bravery, 

Dead on the street. 

 

Ripping you,  

With rotten bleeding teeth. 

 

Their words seep

 

You see no mercy.

 

The nothingness 

of 

life. 

 

Summed up with,

Breaking news body found in lake. 

 

Please don’t take him away.  

 

They will shoot you for your bravery

Dead on the street.

 

They will shoot you for your bravery. 

Without letting you speak. 

 

Please, 

I am a woman with child. 

They shoot you down. 

Smile. 

 

We brought him home. 

Laid him, at your feet. 

Smile, for the crowd. 

Cry, for the television screens. 

 

They have laid him at your feet. 

They do not speak. 

 

They say nothing- 

As they shoot you down. 

With the awful sound- 

” That is all we can do for now.”

 

 

R.I.P. Richard Okorogheye

 

 

 

 

 

Photography by Ivana Cajina

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Desire

Desire

 

I feel cold without you,

I make tea.

I feel lost without you,

A makeshift map,

                       of  arrows on the ground,

 

Hearing,

         whispers of your sound.

 

I feel lonely without you,

The Bear,

          in approach.

 

Gnawing my clothes,

Ripping my flesh

A tasty bed,

of disgrace.      

 

Moisture builds on your lip,

You like me like this.

                      A longing,

To be kissed.

I feel scared.

Say it again.

 

I feel scared.

Say it again.

 

You take me to bed.

Lay me down

Gag my mouth.

Pleasurable screams,

Silenced within your white sheets.

Stand,

        On your feet.

Erect.

          Back straight.

Legs wide.

Mouth open.

Your shoulders behind me.

Feet beside me.

Your breasts pressing into my wings,

Slow.

You move down.

Your fingers,

Bend my sound.

I croak.

               I moan.    

                      I am your bow.

Tell me what you do when you are alone?

When I am cold, lost and lonely,

 I wait for you.

When I am scared,

I become you.

Bend your knees and open wide.

The darkness of my spirit fills the night sky.      

 

Photography by Darius Iromlou   

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I PINE TO BE

 

You never liked me. Not really.

You liked me, as you wanted me. Open and exposed.

Vulnerable to the bone. You liked me without my flesh-without the protection of my form. I was pleasant without my shelter, naked and alone. I was for you? Pleasurable? Or another passing fruit?  Was I worth my demise, did you savour the time?

I feel like you must, who else lives up to my touch.

I am undeniable in my truth. I take over you but you make into a joke- someone that lives alone. Pushed aside to the furthest or the centrepiece but never allowed to be free, unless you were ready to devour me.

No one wanted to see, what it really felt like to be me. I am more than rough- I am what longs to be touched. I am more than spikes. I am a mountain of sharp petals that rose from the ground. My mother was the delicious sound of raindrops falling down. I am the sun. When you opened me up you could see, how my nectar does not bleed it dreams. My skin was my true reality.

I wonder what else you can’t believe.