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Hold on death let me kiss the devil’s grandson good bye……


    On the pages of the heart you broke a thousand times, I soak my ink in my tears and write to you

The drawings you made on my body with your cane are more beautiful than the portrait of the Holy man

under the sheets

Hanging on the cross

Father, always busy collecting seeds and offering in the church

Doing business on the pulpit

While your acts ushered me into depression and fed me my own tears like food

Always waving napkins and blessing the church with your filthy hands…

Those napkins and hands never came home;

They never dried the rivers of living water that flowed each day from my eyes

Those days you’d tie me to the small tree in front of the house

Like a living sacrifice under the sun

I waited for the Lord to send down fire and consume me

While you waited for your fun time

I was your playing field;

I never lived

Each time you come home

 my heartbeat skips

I hear the worms in my empty tummy singing my requiem with their soprano voices

When I craved a fatherly kiss placed firmly on my forehead

You’d always soak the head with a liter of anointing oil

Casting and binding the devil,

Ignoring my pleas as you force your rod inside my tender hole

You are something dark for the memory

Even the life you lived on the altar was a delicious lie prepared in the devil’s kitchen

I envy the owls perching on tree tops at night rehearsing their songs

They’re free and happy but I never was

I have made a loop with the rope

Ready to climb and give death a warm and a tight hug; something you never did

Death promised me the freedom I longed for. I stamp my letter with the blood from my wounds.

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