death is a deliverance.
i watched as my brittle feet make a spasm with the pleated interlocks of my supposed abode of livelihood,
i remembered the scores of algebraic, trigonometric, pyramidal jargons i have compressed in my brain box,
no use here whatsoever.
i broke into a dirge.
a boy like me has tasted of the red waters that course through the slums, dividing pieces of morality into memoirs of vices.
(bittersweet)
all these make me a boy with limbs severed.
this is how death delivers:
i.
i say a prayer
i gulp down the memories of bliss; sending them into the abyss of no return.
ii.
i go to the railings that separate the lagoon from commuters, i admire first then i jump to hug it.
iii.
after all, to die is to live in another life.
just maybe, that life will be favourable.
© Timothy OJO.
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