My imaginary friend says : “Hi”
His name is Anxiety
When you see me fidget,it is because he tickles me. ©
Tag: Poetry
These urges and itches can only be quelled by pen welding and puking.
A Yearning…
Since you left,
my tummy has been a tomb for carcasses of butterflies …. ©
The Self.
📷MyrkoThum
He stays up all night creating characters according to his insecurities,
He crafts with his flaws their appearances, he adorns them with his scars,
He crochets their speeches with his unbearable impediments,the plots reads like the chronicles of his failures.
He omits the true sense of his views with overused periods of ellipsis, it is his personal conflicts that builds up to the climaxes of his stories; his pessimism fuels his obsession with tragic endings.
However much the strength of his protagonists,the embodiments of his fears are the forever victorious adversaries.
Ego.
When he swallowed his pride,
It was not even a gulp.
Poetry Monarch.
Knock Knees (Belladona II)
I let her pass then pace up my stroll,admiring the below her thighs part of her limbs where knees bend in for a quick kiss when she walks; like collapsing pillars under the weight of her beauty.
I grasp hold of her chubby wrist,
…the connection of our epidermis igniting electric sparks with audible clicks,a gasp escape my lips…
My skinny frame feels suddenly too heavy for my knees,as my throbbing heart threatens to rupture my ribs.
Time take a knee for a moment, while my rationality abscond with my ability of speech.
Numb and mute, i let her free…and watch her leave.
Poetry Monarch.
: Africa Zwelibanzi ’18
Africa Zwelibanzi 