Monday, July 03, 2017

Urban Apparition







He emerged
from the underground,
or was it the sky?
Injured by the noise,
motionless, silent,
badly wounded.
Kneeling between
the afternoon
& the inevitable,
veins attached
to horror, the asphalt.
Holy eyes sagging,
completely naked
almost blue, that’s
how white he was.
His bare skin
a nectar petal,
a bipanel chest
of soft full moon,
such echo of my echo,
fuck beats and tides.
Give me your balaa.



*balaa - means “calamity/distress/trial/misfortune” in English


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