LIVING TO BE A DAILY HEADLINE

You know that time when waking at dawn is like

waking in a jungle. Sometimes into a new week – like

a babe marooned in no man land, with the load of thoughts

shawled behind & before him,

& death numbering

his steps per time – steady scorn of “what will you eat?”

“Where will you go?” “Who in this world would beam a ray of smile today?”

This is what I told myself before I slept –

I'd die & not sleep, so to resurrect & not wake like I ever did.

I dreamt the doom of my fears & dared the dangers of a new life –

a piece of cloth smoldering the pangs piled in my flesh –

a wobbling cap struggling with the wheels in my head, or

they'll drive me to the other side of the streets…

where I'll get crashed or crazy

where survival is the last piece of a pilfered bread watered with

wishes, wickedness & saliva – where you daily walk with double death:

one killing from your conscience until you have no heart that dies.

The other is the death that walks closest to you till you are

picked by the state to safe the menace of mephitis.

This is what I told myself –