Ayoola Goodyness Olanrewaju writes

spoilt

i

how can i tell you of your flaws?

when you are flanked

by honeys from deceitful hives

of truthful lies in bloated bellies of  bees

would i not sound like

a prophet of doom amidst

drooling accolades of your accidents?

would not my bricks of corrections

chorus a thud of envy

and paint me                                

a predator of progress...?

ii

how will i tell you, idun?

that your teeth are not yet strong for sugarcanes

for these brown barks

grey with years in rooty tentacles...

when you ride on pride

for the crush you pay

biscuit bones in sweet beans...

would you eat the corn on cobs

and maybe train your milky teeth to mature...?

would you not say

i want you stagnant in the arms of patience

and plague my motives a pretentious interest ...?

iii

how can I tell you...how?

that i am the print that directs your blue

that our configuration is a twin code

you are the blue and i am the print

a designed destined blueprint...

when you are consumed by lucks of  luxury

and you jeer at my prospered penury...

would you not say i am

a trespasser; a poor gold-digger?

would you not call your dogs

the sycophants you call friends

to bark, bite and tear me piecemeal?

iv

how will i console your wail?

when you tell your whips in weeps

in twitching sights and gasping nostrils

and your tears flag...

fragments of failed dreams

a set of broken teeth

and your blues without prints...

would you share my grief?

would you cry with me

when passion pains wind me in teary mills?

would you know my drain

that i have no tears left again!