Chasing for something that never belonged to me,
my mother taught me better than that; I once cared
about women, around the same time that I wished
I was a better person. Now I am unapologetic
for my institutionalised thoughts, for my forbidden touches,
for the sabbatical frustrations. A former role model of mine,
Isaiah, still recites fire to me (in my sleep) once his visions
showed him that my blood had turned antarctic. My ancestors,
from the water; my mother, my mortal rock. I have never forgotten
where I come from - the dark heart of Africa: The perceptions
of a changed man beating to the sounds of a strange voice
at the proverbial crossroads. I watch myself from the astral,
helpless (much like my sister, schizophrenic - much like my brother
may the Lord forever rest his soul...) I will distance myself, there is no
further fear within my spirit. I am a renaissance man, in the flesh;
there’s no “Fred” without such foundations: The origins
of the unrapturable - “Such a reality doesn’t belong, my beloved”.
Last edited by Bleed Away at Mar 16, 2015,