A speck of dust on a dirty window.
Insignificant blebs bobbing
Part of someone’s uneven skin.
Pay him no heed
A trifling, rifling through life,
A burden that has no place on their back,
Hanged on the gallows and beheaded by a guillotine.
Who cares though?
Certainly not them.
More importantly, who cares who cares?
Feelings are chemicals
Yet they ensnare us more than a bear trap.
My human brain tells my human mouth to say the most inhuman things.
The rustling of a remorseful man on his deathbed
So much left unsaid
For it is as the Africans say,
One day, the charcoal seller’s son will wear a white shirt and smile.
That day has yet to arrive.