Hεя ทα๓ε ïร Dεαтн

Death pounded in his ears incessantly, beating her montonous rhythm as she sipped on her victim’s life. Its delicious thickness wrapped around her tongue and down her throat. He laid at her feet, staring unseeingly, yet knowingly, at the clawed feet that didn’t match the pretty pink face above him.She had been the weak once, until she chose an evil type of life. This, she offered to him, by offering her bloody wrist. He winced, and turned his head from the intoxicating red wine, refusing the life of a να๓ρïяε .

A woman to her husband:

” Remember when we danced provocatively with the fairies in Inglaterra? How beautiful I was, dressed in naught, but white sheets from our wedding night- my hair frizzled and controlled by the wind. If only, you could have seen in my eyes’ mirror how handsome you were in your chocolate skin. I liked how the fairies threw sparkling cider on us, so we were both delicious and beautiful.  Remember how they smeared strawberry jam on the green grass, and hung cupcakes on the edge of stars for us? Remember me- stretching up on ballet point toes to pluck the ripest peach, remember how nice it was to kiss the sweetness from my lips? Do  you? 

The woman squeezed her husband’s hand,then tucked it into the coffin, along with the  heavenly fairy story she wrote for him, just in case he had to get off in Hell.

The Elf Nymph

The elf stared at her lover,ears pricked up to the epitome of queer perfection.Her grape green eyes unleashed the NILE at sight of his blood running dark with Death’s poison-suffer. He was at Hade’s gate. What hurt most was that she knew there could only be eternal coals in his resting place. A demonic boy, as he could never enter or smell heaven’s apples. He had slaughtered, with no lamentations, baby girls in their cribs and castrated innumerable poor men’s bulls as soon as a cow was obtained.To watch the suffering of others  was a sport he enjoyed. Or at least seemed to__it was difficult for her to remember now,as his bloodied face was washed pure by his tears.
“I love you”the Boy whispered, hardly audible, reaching. Her heart stopped. She managed a weak smile as he breathed his last breath. When she dried her eyes-against  his lips was his dagger.

For Mr.Akinyele

After my favorite tutor’s death I thought all mental stimulation was over- I was so uncharacteristically right…for a time ,at least,almost a year.

But there’s another like him, no not as perfectly him as he was, but enough so that I may be strangely comfortable speaking to the new, younger, but not better Mr. Akinyele.

A week after the death of my Uncle,my favorite tutor, the most erudite man I’ve ever known, died of a heart attack. I cried, more than I cried at news of my Uncle’s Death, because for some queer reason Mr. Akinyele’s academic relationship with me inspired me more than my Uncle’s affections. At his funeral, I could hardly believe that he was truly deceased-in fact,I thought he was faking his death(yes,i was THAT delusional). After all, he had once told me, “The best way to find out how loved you are is to fake your death.”

    Every night for more than two weeks I cried, because his expected arrivalat exactly nine everyday forever to be unfulfilled. But still , I imagined that he was residing somewhere amongst archaic novels with a tobacco pipe in his mouth, humming ‘Pharoah, let my people go’. When I moved to Trinidad, months after,I had lobg stopped crying. Also, I had given up the belief that he was dead, afterall, I had seen  neither his corpse nor his coffin.

cry baby cry

I just made my little brother cry
please,please don’t ask me why
Trust me I didn’t try
But then again sometimes I lie.

To stay

Its been a while
But i cant get over that winning smile
As dusk approaches tears well in my eyes. I can’t disguise your lies in my eyes. There’s no pretending you made a mistake when the love you risked was three years long-to long to forget.
I think I hate you for dying. I know I love you for trying to stay forever.

Aden’s Peach

I’ve been eating of this peach for months now. It fills me. Its still sweet and firm. Still makes my nose dance and my tongue sing. Every bite is a miracle from God. But when I opened my eyes,it was a decayed and putrid mess.That peach now remind me of your love. Turns out it was a warning from God

Macrcosm

Deformed and corrupt, the world holds beauty. Ugly and evil, this macrocosm is euphoric. Holding smiling deceitful visages and hands of evil intent, we live on Earth.

Vessel

Once the Angel of Death touches you, there’s nothing you can do
There’s no fleeing or screaming
Only the waning of your complexion as your soul levitates
In this coffin nailed shut before me, I know lays an empty vessel.
You, your soul is elsewhere, watching on the burying ground, praying that someone reminds him of his Creator. But you know now that it won’t be the same as if you had been the one to  call his name.

The Boy In the hat and his bee

            Wednesday August 8,2012
The honey bee buzzed around the
circumference of his hat. The boy,pen in hand hummed a melodious stanza of his poem.Nectar dripped from his fingertips, intoxicating the bee, encouraging her to assualt the phebe in delightful ways. The bee dove south, twirling and swirling imaginary dotted lines around his arm. The boy in the hat swatted her away, arms waving madly. Narrowing her huge eyes, an impossible reality, she sunk under his sleeve, unbeknownst to him. Sinking back to his delicious aberations, our young man made a mess of sweet nectar on his pages. He guided it to form lovely patterns and designs that only few can comprehend. The Bee , peered down at his page, and being one of those discerning few, she understood the sweet relevance of each locution.  Nodding her round honey-bee head and shaking her plump abdomen, she readied herself for the final execution of her plan.

  She brushed her wings against his wrist, causing him to twist. The boy rose his sweet scented hand to shoo her away again, but suddenly noticing how lovely a creature she was he leveled his head with her levitating body. The stared one another in the eye, The Boy curiously, The Bee rather audaciously, I think, for such a teeny insect. Tentatively, the bee flew towards his page, she hovered , circumnavigating his ‘O’ . The boy watched eagerly, forgetting entirely that she was a bee,and offered his precious cream pinkie as a perch. Setting her bum on his knuckle ,the bee faced him once again. The boy in the hat pursed his apple-red lips and blew a gentle breeze for her. The bee blinked once,twice, thrice in wonder of his honey tainted breath. She fluttered off his finger in elation, and danced to his fingertips. He narrowed his eyes. She narrowed hers,then quick as her wings beat,she stretched out her peculiar leg and caught a nectar blob in a nectar drop. Raising her leg to her mouth, which was slowly opening to reveal the smallest, cutest humanoid togue, she ate it.

Supicious bee, The Boy In The Hat thought,I wonder…
As soon as he began to wonder, his fingertips released more nectar than usuak and his optical vision clouded. So when he felt a kiss, which was more like a bump, on his cheek, then his nose, he was astounded to see that the bee was admiring him. She grew larger and larger then sat on the table, her legs growing and becoming copper- her body stretching into a long vessel , until she was a human girl the color of his honey, and just the size to fit on his knee!