The clouds
hold back
their tears
As skies
turn grey
in days
descending
into an
accumulation
of those
forgotten.
© Hudson Biko
Inspired by the Daily Prompt: Bitter
Tag: dailyprompt
None
in these moments
we
find
ourselves
saying that
of it really mattered
,
That it was only one time
and that time
will make it feel slightly better
,
Saying that
all those things
won’t matter anymore
;
And then we find ourselves
awake
at half-past four
in those moments
That find us
,
As if
we
don’t really matter
© Hudson Biko
Control
they say that sometimes we have to let some things go
that we can’t really do
all of this
all by ourselves
that our shells
can only hold onto
the fragments
of constituents
buried deep within the parts of us we never really want to reach
or the parts of us they expect us to keep holding onto
they tell us that sometimes
trying to
everything
leaves us controlling
nothing
And maybe they’re right
Maybe all of we have left
won’t be enough
And we find ourselves buried
deep within
fragments of our constituents
Asking them to hold on to us
;
But maybe
just maybe
All we ever want to control
is nothing
And maybe
just maybe
that’s enough.
© Hudson Biko
He IV
He came in.
And like a
First-time
Lost in-time
He could only sit
there
on seats
slowly shredding
in rooms heading
to ends
Pending
more.
As words
poured out into a world
ready for their ramifications
as he choked on his own misconceptions
we watched fall into rooms
of ambiguity
Before
they began
to slowly shred
away to-times
he was always lost in.
© Hudson Biko
Clear
We
began
to
through
accumulations
we called obstruction
As permutations
dissolved
in the
presence
of absence
© Hudson Biko
hudson biko 