Sunrise The sun was reluctant to rise, holding grudges from the dead night. The gloom spread, catching up with all of us. I scooped water from the mud pot to rinse my face and help the sun rise and speak our cause. I fear my daemons too. They keeping erupting everywhere. Even in my dreams, I see whiteness and blinding lights. The angels came. They see decays, we see dancers. My dreams are diseased. My dreams grow moths. The rope almost loops in an obvious feast of beheading. ~By Ejiofor Ugwu
Posted on: Mon, 11 Nov 2013 21:22:40 +0000
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