i. Magnet
a body at war is attracted to external cuss & fuss—
tongue venting out stray bullets:
the shape of a harsh-phrase
rendering the heart stone-cold & aggrieved.

with this, a body is simply unlike charges
that attract two things:
positive—by this I mean, plus; three times of my father’s headache.
negative—minus; three times lesser than my ambition, grease with clone of hardship
in a body filming a crime scene.

so a body hopping into variance means
nothing can align the body into mental focus,
than being slashed in a dream.

ii. Tension
a body at tilt is tucked into hostility
like a flick of oil.
the air oxidised it into an oxide of a congealed magazine of blood,
bedlocked in the vessel of motionless—
with bulletproof claws.

i am like all these that manifest in a state of coercion:
enmity—i mean, unfriendly; my body, like stain & white.
hatred—i dislike gossip & foul language sorting me out.
opposition—i am always confronting being, in the instinct of animals, swiping their fingers into a rifle.

iii. Gravity:
a body is consumed by soberness
because a burden has taken the shape of a grand piano.
it will keep on gambling
until a body hits a hundred degrees of torment—or disaster
& begin muttering prayers into heaven to passover.

my mother once told me that
pain is contagious in a body
seeking to pick light debris from the clarity of the sky.

so, a body is fighting an external force,
a life-size dilemma like a man choking in his tea
& attaining the form of an endnote
in the mouth of the red sea.











Photo by Abiodun Odu on Unsplash