Msomi's Muse

where the wild things are

5 notes


you are a bathtub of balloons.
lines of tears angels left on
the counter above the cabinet
your prescribed reasons used to stay.

a hot shower away,
from fixing your lovers face
with teeth cut lips.
blaming the steam
for all the red in
your half truths.

teachings of sorcery
mothers enchant their wombs in.
a lesson to the future
of how destiny was born
tied to
something greater.

two fingers looked for god
in the galaxy between your legs.
an altered state of awareness
passed around like the last hit
everyone wants.

you are ‘fuck it’
you are ‘fuck me’
you are ‘fuck this’

a function unto yourself,
unashamedly by passion.

you are fucking revelry.

politeness tiptoes
at the edge of your spirit,
tamed tirelessly through stares
and the longing of freedom.
you do not have the keys.

we are candor,
casually exchanging giggles
at fear’s table;
ravaging silliness naked.
splendor sprawling back,
upwards to you and i.

a gang of sighs and of panting.
a church of wonder;
a held promise of sequels.
together our names produce dua;
an etched ancient time.

a middle finger
we suck rigorously.
the lust of nations who dared
before us and are yet to come.
we lived in visions.

a moment from forever will appear,
with us deemed illegal.
chests pressed to eternity,
the melody will

risks are for lovers.

- m.m., the secret of us

4 notes

i remain forbidden in forests.
a crown of thorny ventricles.
mend yourself to me dear.
this practice i call stichcraft.
m.m., thicket (via mpumelelomsomi)

4 notes

make peace with the pieces

read fingers like pages.
print your ideals on karma.
forget the sound of loss.
pray your presence into being.
carry your struggles on wind.

a hollow silence eerie.
the common constant
concerned only with thought.
mind mouthing reasons,
behind the affront
of being heard.

head heavy & compressed,
there is lead between my ears.
eyelids stapled to the floor.
amassed angst,
my gravity consumes me.

m.m., maybe you too (via mpumelelomsomi)
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