They are the last colours of the light
these silver pieces that pierce my heart
and paint my valves with clear pieces
of an ugly broken bottle reeking of methanol

A whole world goes up in flames
in the defeated stronghold of my mind
telling me in smoke that I have lost a war.
I did not know I was fighting

I do not have the luxury of time
my memories crack in the seconds
my eyes look ahead instead of backward
to let the darkness in

I am the witness, counsel, prosecutor, judge and jury
of my numerous crimes
I have brought these charges against myself, by myself.
I stand in the witness box with my hands behind my back and
my mouth silently mutters
"My Lord, only I can vilify or venerate the man I have become".

As a counsel imagining the circumstances of my birth a different thing
I have a strong defense for my undesired traits
I was born covered in blood, it became a thin screen over my eyes
I cannot see the world as clearly as everyone else and

Since there is little I can do
to change the features given to me at my birth
I cannot help but be me with a poisonous tongue
and a venom filled mouth

How do I delete a post?

2: RHETORICS

A hornets' nest looms precariously
over the head of a child
he stretches his hand to poke it with a crooked stick
the nest breaks and and out comes the hornets
to teach him what his mother did not.

You are the hornet and I am the child
I have poked you with a stick
and have known to face pain
I have rubbed ointment
over my ugly limbs, swollen like tubers of yam
and taken a razor to my vein
to remove the unsightly lump beneath my skin
I have stood under the surgeon's lamp
to remove the cataract in my eyes
now I see what I should have a long time ago.

I have eaten the apple from Eve's hand
now I know and have come to ask:
Of what use are those little walks
along memory lane when it is sure
that in the end we will get to reach
the point we chose to part?
Of what use is looking over
those tidbits from the past
that were so important
in wedging us apart?

I have searched for knowledge
and heard from the Oracle's mouth:
looking on to the future
with our history in hand
makes for a better present
than reminiscing old times.
Let's wipe the old slate
to write new words.