Image: Rita and i. By assad abdi

a lover conversing with a city (02)

Holy one, I beg your forgiveness, but there’s nothing sacred about you or your dream: Your virgin was only young and lustful; Your saviour, a martyr without a cause.

Wine, rainbow and the full moon, you promise — yet you banish me to yet another shore. Why promise me a dream of milk and honey while tyranny seduces your existence.

Speak not to me of love sacred one; for how odd you speak. A prostitute of time you are; and i — your pimp, counting your screams behind a closed door.

How I despise you.

I curse you every new day; I detest you as your sun arises; I litter your streets as your garbage men leave; I ruin your monuments whilst your “lovers” asleep; and I watch you burn every full moon.

Yet! How I despise myself — away from you