Tremble

In my chase after it,

I found myself standing on top of corrugated iron.

 

It was

loosely placed

across gaps of space

 

But

I didn’t know that.

 

Leaving me,

watching it collapse

into swamps of green and brown

 

As it

pulled me down with it,

 

where sounds

drowned

into desperation

 

And breaths

digressed

into scarcity

 
Leaving me,

in that gap of space

 

Trembling.
 

© Hudson Biko

 

via Daily Prompt: Tremble

Interaction

Another

interaction

descends

into

futility

;

Why do we bother trying?

©

 

Craft

It streamed steadily

from sources we call chambers

to mouths we call tips.

 

It

ingrained itself

on an untouched canvas

Then

morphed

into  a succession

of black lines

and black hearts

 

Lines piercing

Hearts beating

 

It’s darkness

 

left

behind

 

Then

recreated

from sources we call chambers

 

Before slowly fading

Again.

 

©

 

via Daily Prompt: Craft

Overdosing

Overdosing

on

the

recollection

of

memory

;

calling it nostalgia.

© H. Biko

 

Roadside

sam-burriss-363710.jpg

I see him.

Sitting by the roadside.

With his bottle of water

as it gets

hotter and hotter.

This is his brief

moment of relief.

A part of me wants to tell him it gets better .

A part of me isn’t sure if that’s true.

 

© Hudson Biko

Photograph: Sam Burriss