"VS021, Atlantic Ocean"
Y. Misdaq

I stole this tree from the roots of love,
Twisted and tapped it, unleashed the pain.
Took out a feel from the hopes of love,
Tainted it with pigs, someone tearing her gently.
I tried to perfume the air around us,
I tried to cover four eyes with my two hands,
that feared what they didn't understand, I was bland.
Clean shaven in my haven everyday,
Shaving in denial that everything was okay.
Falafel me. Mushed and greasy,
Finding me guilty, as sacred as can be,
The naked me,
Mugged and repenting on the toilet-seat.
Oblivion staring into me, providing,
I find food underneath the futon.
Fearfully fumble the crumbs in my clammy sticks,
Nothing fits, my guilty find,
Present in the front of my mind I see you.
Connecting me again with sunset,
Reconnecting my ability.
Your tender sadness made my purity.

My 'valid cloud', your purpose-hole
contains a sun on fire with passion,
Inviting me to burn away my pride again.
I think of always, my stubborn side-swipes being blazed.
My filthy matters reduced to the space of a few days,
Placed at the beggining of a clean life page.

Finding me guilty, I release the self-pity,
Flying into time-zones, chasing the sunrise.
Lights making our eyes what they should be.
You're on your own canvas, I knew you finally would be.

By Y. Misdaq
© 2003 Y. Misdaq & Nefisa.co.uk All rights reserved.