Inked Tongue

George had always known himself as a man tuned to invisible frequencies. He moved through the world  with the bearing of one who listens for signs, who feels watched over by forces that speak in  symbols rather than sentences. His spirituality was not learned; it arrived uninvited, braided with  visions, with voices that sometimes sang and sometimes argued. The doctors called it schizophrenia.  George called it a thin veil between worlds. On an ordinary night that refused to remain ordinary, he walked into a bar and found Helena. It was not the bar that held him, nor the music, nor the low congregation of strangers rehearsing loneliness. It was her eyes. They did not simply look at him; they claimed him, named him, rendered  him visible in a way that felt almost dangerous. Helena spoke and her voice carried the gravity of a siren’s call, not loud, not pleading, but certain. George, who had always felt godlike in his solitude, felt himself kneel without shame....

Everything about me is poetry. The way i close my eyes when i try to persuade my mind to sleep My catatonic sleeping posture  My dreams My manifestations  My soul The scar on my left palm My strolling through the boulevard  My dance with little butterflies in the garden Everything about me is poetry. My fears My head on my lover’s thighs My ambition of having a conversation with the moon My madness in the middle of searching for purpose My lost coin in the untamed bush of my mind My ears buried in music My dance in the rave  My hunger My rumination on a toilet seat My surrender to a cold shower Everything about me is poetry. My mother’s smile My father’s sigh  My sister’s heartbreak My brother’s ploy My yearning for love My skeletons in a gigantic wardrobe.

Location: HEAVEN🪽 Father, I am doing the work, I am bare, broken, but now l am naked and free. From the beginning of time I became the prodigal son, the rebel, the outlaw. I took your love for granted but still your love for me deepens like the abyss I have descended into. But your love has no bounds and has no limits. Father, I pushed you to the wall and you sent a legion to rain arrows of fire on my wings and lock me up in a dungeon. In that dungeon, on that night where my angels were waiting for me at the party I hosted, there in that dungeon I got the last straw of revelations. Indeed, I was there in the beginning, when we were in the darkness; before the advent of your light; your light came and it became your eyes, it became the judge. Do pray that we will not rebel again against the light, for indeed with the advent of the light, your beauty was even more appreciated. Father, everything I did, I did for love, to make you proud, to hold the heritage of the family, to be a be...