They are Packing Me in a Box

folding my body

my arms and legs

and labelling

the case

darkness is all

I see

and I can hear

everyone laughing

while they

stick stickers

and the supervisors

go around

shouting orders

and directing

the show

I don’t know

where they are

sending us

I don’t even know

if we are dead

or alive

I am totally confused

and clueless

it’s like

some kind of

weird factory

though I am

not scared

I only want

my mind to close

but it won’t

outside they joke

and there are

footsteps

and the sound

of crates

piling up

being thrown

one above the other

I wonder when exactly

the universe began

and when it will end

I remember

plants popping up

and turning

into people

and some faces

fixed under hair

living and dying

seem to be a pair

making love

in their

incomprehensible

lair. 

Death Haunts Me Daily

though when I raise my arms

for it to take me away

it quickly gets behind me

tapping me on my shoulder

and when I turn around

it’s not there

I have never cried so loudly

in my life

never been so bullied

so traumatized

so cheated

this world is fooling me

I cannot keep

my head raised

it falls onto my chest

there’s saliva flowing

out of my mouth

and so much turbulence

like I am in an aircraft

about to crash

it is so noisy

like mad music

entering my ears

along with jeeps

and bikes

and trumpets

and drums

and they are

dragging me

somewhere

it is like the end

of the universe

there are all

these sirens

and people

keep coming at me

and what am I

to do

but crash onto

the ground

screaming

and they have

tied me

but won’t come

when I call them

what do they want

will they sacrifice me

like an animal

and when I ask them

what they want

they laugh and cry

and I do the same

but I do not die

I’m just being pushed

and pulled

and all I can say is

I am finished

I am finished

I am finished

though I know

I am still alive

I am not dead

they just keep

changing my bed.

When You Live in a Neighbourhood

in independent houses

you see each other clearly

you see people’s attitudes

change towards you

all the time

you see yourself

change like the weather

we really don’t know

each other

we cannot understand

how hurt someone is

we cannot be

other people

that is why

there are stories

that is why

I write poetry.

Life is Torment

especially in the morning

when I cannot think

when my mind is in

broken pieces

all around

yet without it

I cannot live

somehow it gives me

the sense of

an impossible

unavoidable situation

and it is raining

fire and ice

I know my head

my heart

can’t keep up

my body ill

and tired

I still carry on

cursing.

The Heart of Evil

is within

our heart

it is something

we were born with

good and bad

are both in us

we hide our thoughts

our emotions

our feelings

and go mad

we are not being

honest about

ourselves

even to ourselves

we need these

fantasies

where we

dream of

glory

how silly we are

what idiotic things

we do

before we die.