This poem is the intellectual property of Cereus Kaii (PTY) ltd as per the Copyright Act no98 of 1978 and may not be published (unless shared via this link on social media) without permission.
Here is where I rewrite the Titanomachy of me .
Flames of the sun lapping up my flesh , like blood Apophis spilled in its pillaging of towns ,
are keeping me from falling into a dead man’s sleep .
Bring me an electricity of cold and pain , pinioning me to the fissuring space
that creaks as I try to wormhole myself from my self .
I haven’t looked in the mirror in months .
And who knows how long that may have been ?
Skin tags , a remnant of some Neanderthal ancestor-fuigitive of the past, and Mercury’s
trick-of-a-smirk smile scored into my face like cosmic brandings I can never wash off .
Perhaps I’ll stop running , too ; take off the feathered shoes like burdens and lay them down like
archaic corpses of mummies’ .
Because who was I to ever really think that I could walk on air ?
And who was I to think that I could trick the nights to day and catch up with all the dreams that got
ahead of me ?
But if I stay here long enough to face the un-me parts of me ; I can cast them into
the fires of the stars .
Declend , then into a lighter participle of self and find my iron in the heart of the sun .
Beat myself again against its anvil .
And forge out of me something new that is only light
and warmth and true .
