my friend talks about blood & blood & blood
till vain became a passage for his blood.
a boy leaves his enemies, fights with furniture &
a mirror showing the nakedness he is made of.
delusion hides under a boy’s nails
something unseen unplugs him from a night
& plugs memories of his faded father to his
there is an Usain of fire needling inside his
head a loop of absence
this room is damned. a finely walled river—
where sighs swim into no remembrance after
leaving my body. where my body will teach biology soon.
doctors prescribing a Horeb of pills
the bright sun becomes an intruder in the
wreckage christening his body with a folded shore.
you want to hang a diameter of your tremors
choking your throat, on a tree.
like flies worshipping a scar, a body of drowning
flutters on your excuse not to live.
like the sensation of a cube of sugar on the tongue’s river
you briefly carry a house of loss between your canines.
a god squashes a night into your eyes,
origin of water & what drowns water on dying skins.
the body floats on Deuteronomy twenty-eight times downwards
the way paper sings on water before
parting like a city in shreds of something bluish.
amen to a silent prayer.
Mesioye Johnson is a writer who loves the darkness of the world, hence, the gift of art he gives.