I wait.
I cradle sorrow in my palms
like a newborn baby.
It then crawls into my chest
and sleeps there peacefully.
A wistful child indeed.
There is always
a fossil trace of memory behind it.
What remains is an
empty colum of artery
i am not afraid to slit.
This is the softer way of rebellion.
I have a gun as my third leg
and a knife as my third thumb.
So, am not afraid.
(So, am not brave.)
My mesh rabbit heart is
a cologne smell no one can own.
My god waits until the last day 
of world to save me, and
that's why i dont believe in him.
So, am not a half believer.
I have tested my blood in
the litmus paper and am neutral.
(God, you cant punish me).
I went to the market to buy
a cushion for my dead bed.
So, am almost ready.
I have written a poem and
gave it to the rainbow.
Haven't heard from you yet.
So, am waiting.
Am waiting.


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