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Weet-Bix

by Khabazela Mkhize on Thursday, 03 June 2010 at 18:20

In a world far removed from the sane we search blindly for ourselves. Dancing the shine away as if lost in blatant trance. With every turning of the earth we rip each hair from its proud root attempting to prove our boldness. Sure, we watched ourselves rise to this plain justification of existance. Through bloodshot eyes we even chose to consider the pain. Why life is only sweetened to those who worship her within their fullness. For me, she has just become deja without the fucken vu. Even the thickened streaks of love have lost their blow, their elasticity, their saturation...now i sleep on my pale belly just to look into her [life] shaken eyes and dream. Dream of the butterflies beneath my lungs, the cold music from my lovers' tuned tear ducts. Life gave birth while flying, most of her babies choked on their own blood from the drop into planet earth. While i hung by her grimy converse laces amongst the shy stars. The ones with scribbles of loves' name on their front. Tilting the light to enlarge that only one positive negative life took of us. If we are special then we should envy the doomed ones. They know lifes true flavoured beauty while the blessed ones know only her over-rinsed flaunt.