Art created in heat,
Snakes curl and hover,
They twist and consume,
Suffocating from within.
Far off through tendrils,
A fire smoulders,
Bubbles and hisses,
Blooming in the din
They take hold of the body,
Clinging to skin like lovers
They wrap and squeeze,
Until blood is dripping from their chin
If a tiger kills a gazelle,
No cries of evil ring out.
A tiger is free from moral.
People agree this without doubt.
And yet our own is bound,
To abide by the laws of old
Why should not I yearn for the taste of blood,
Or the want to feel skin turn cold?
Oh, scream as you wish,
Cry evil if you must,
But I am an animal,
I only wish to feed my lust
Read…even if you don’t like doing so (like I did), you must because you could be writing blind if you don’t have the maps people left before you.
“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?”
I mean what would happen if I didn’t. Come on, seriously, who doesn’t swear, whether they are telling the truth or not.
“Where were you on the night in question?”
“I was at home…alone.”
I was standing over a dead man’s body in the middle of some dimly lit street.
“And can anyone testify to that?”
“Only God as my witness.”
He gave up on me a long time ago.
“Did you know the victim?”
“No, never met him.”
Well at least that is true.
“And so, you do not know of any reason why you would attack this man?”
Simple, I wanted to know what it would feel like.
It shakes in fear,
It freezes in its corner,
Its waiting, its begging.
I watch and wait.
It thinks perhaps I am blind,
Its legs stop quivering,
It starts to laugh at me
I snarl and pounce.
A King thinks over his worst duties.
You ask a prisoner for life advice.
The ultimate fight of nature…
A swarm of bees VS a suburban mum and her pie.
A blank canvas is left over the land,
And silence falls close behind.
Done is the ice and cold.
The cycle begins once more.