On Being Unborn

(Riot I)

Photo by Nechirwan Kavian on Unsplash

I refuse not to be born
all the envy and the rage
the five fingered fist
full of fuel and fire
empty of thorns

My eyes looking out
unto a universe
ever expanding
a future like uncrept vine
foolishly withering
a life unlived fully futile
clenched fists balled
flailing against a paper wall

What life is this
full of fury
bereft of hope
udderless lips
deny them scope
a spine lacking spine
lips hungering for milk
clinging to the pink teats
of the undertaker’s cow

withered dried rung out
they are

Riot II.
(Of Riots and Stars)

…and we are going nowhere
walking as if coming back
from afar

the night grows dim
our eyes dimmer
and dark
beyond…