I found myself
in a room
pervaded by an oxymoron
of darkness
and
innocence
Watching,
as you began
to pour
your darkness
into my light
in a might
of flashes
flickering
the ashes
of innocence
into gases
That ignited
blurs
of
memories of “-”
Before the light was finally let in
;
3.00 AM
Morning
© Hudson Biko
Inspired by the Daily Prompt: Blur
Photograph: Dmitry Ermakov
We could see
the sun’s reflection
across sections
of
rolling seas,
We stood
under an eternity
of palm trees
sipping tea
held
in palms
already simmering,
Simmering
as we stood
staring.
And that’s when
You asked me if
I loved you too
And
all I did
was look at you
Stammering
7.37 AM
Morning
© Hudson Biko
The train rolled through
scattered
desert plains
and
rusting aeroplanes
As
I chased
and chased
until
I broke through
to reality.
9.15 AM
Morning.
© Hudson Biko
I walked into halls filled with jail cells.
Each empty.
They told me that I was the first one here. That I could choose which one I wanted. Then abruptly pushed me before I could ask how many of us they expected.
Stumbling down halls dumbfounded by the concoction of silence and anxiety.
Momentarily thinking. “What am I doing here?” Turning behind.
Met by eyes penetrating the flickering darkness. Voices utter, “Continue.”
Each cell surrounded by blood.
Each bed covered by stained and saturated sheets.
Sheets that are still somehow spread in expectation.
Tightly tucked across the metal framed edges. The few patches of white glistening in their exclusivity.
Come here. Sleep.
There is no choice here.
Running. Back to wherever I came from. Wherever that is.
Panting.
Stopping.
Breathing.
A hand grips my shoulder. “We told you to continue.”
Dragged down dark halls. Walls crumbling.
Muttering. “I don’t want to be here.”
In a succession of blurs,
sitting alone
in emptiness.
Staring at the abyss.
Screaming.
Why me.
Screams that pierce the deafening silence.
7.04 AM.
Morning.
©
hudson biko 