unlike every other night
where dripping sounds
crawl through the dots
connecting my brain
today, they drowned my
my neck, leaving the other
parts of me battling for survival
it’s the way she conceals
the sound of her wails
behind the wooden doors
but we all know, pain is a
mother in labour—the devil
salivating for souls.
away from the cacophony
of men, serenity found
abode at the tip of her
lone wrapper.
an asylum that entertains
the river goddess anytime
she visits the holes on my face.
tomorrow awaits my
arrival—every day is a
search for the location
of God’s hand that houses
happiness—until then,
i shall continue to get
my skin pierced with
daggers, birthed by the
sounds of her silent
night wails.












Photo by Brandon Wong on Unsplash