1 december 2017
A Phalange
Your stretched nerves
move, like a reptile
in a dance;
for the evolution of sexuality.
The exodus was a stunt
playing with fire.
I will hide nothing.
I was a cloud within a dot.
Unknowing the fall, I
seek, the failure, to climb
again on strange words
to find the underlying meaning of pain.
You begin exploring
the hills after the unexplained
apartheid, after the bloodbath
of the golden peacocks.
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