Existent
in the absence
of assurance
Thinking
that this madness
will somehow
bow
into our own deliverance
That somehow
there is more
to this
than this
That somehow
this fragments
of attachment
will
make us feel
less absent
That somehow
these
bouts of
are only temporary.
But
we
are only temporary
and this
madness
,
this ‘madness’
is our deliverance.
© Hudson Biko
Photograph: Henri Meilhac
I think we’re always looking for it.
Because we think
that if we find it
we give ourselves
the chance
of finding ourselves.
Because we think
that if we find it
we can finally create
our own peace
from the pieces
that fell apart
;
But we cant really find it,
it finds us.
© Hudson Biko
Photograph: Chen YiChun
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
Hours turned into minutes
as if time was ours
As our words
spilled out
in bouts
of
ascending gradation
in an intoxication
that held
an infinity of potential
ramifications.
that held,
before they descended,
into a combination of vexations
and unfulfilled expectation.
© Hudson Biko
Photograph: Nicole Mason
Their
pupils
converged
like pupils in rooms
waiting
for
classes.
Hiding
behind
fences
they called eyelashes
they
scattered
matches
Prepared to burn
in sojourns
before
they were extinguished.
Living those matches
burned and converged
in its remains
© Hudson Biko
hudson biko 