I Never Killed Time
Angles. Vantage points. Optics. Optical illusions. Stories. Long and short. Novelistic. Masochistic pity party. Earnest idealism. Somebody know’s best and yet everybody lies. Everybody. Lies. Sooth sayers. Truth tellers. Solutionless roar. Mouth feeder’s biting hands that shut mouths without hearing the scream of liberty. Indigenous indignity. Smothers. Murdafunker. Tricksy. Precious. Made up words like love. And Multi-furious. How evol it can be when spelt forwards and spoken like you didn’t know it’s power of posession. To be owned by words. A privilege. A curse like tradition. The village idiot knew better too. The palm wine drunkard was a cleaner version of cultural propaganda. Hypocrisy is a chameleon and I ride her like the Horse charging through a river of bullsweat. Heads up. Dethroned. Decapitated populas peepers. Mass confusion constructions. Sturdy bed with long legs. Voluptuous dreams sleep on the bottom bunk. Overpopulated.