You aren’t allowed to look into my eyes
And find my shades of brown.
To span into my inseparable planets and walk
on their landscape if you cannot stand your ground.
To articulate my soul’s horizons and expect the
tribes of my heart to identify with the warriors of your smiles.
You have mounted prints on my skin that
I cannot allow you to be on a desperate pursuit.
We are walking on celestial miles.
This distance is an eternal migration. A surreal outrage.
A magazine clipping holding our narrative
Of how we could be more ancient.
If we are humanity, then this our homage.
This desire can’t be understood by any traditional language.
I dance in the aromas of your paranoid fears.
Repress our super-life in hopes to meditate in our under-life.
Be in my reincarnations and leave me in
Suspense of what has been hidden.
This prehistoric jungle is visible.
Collect the heritage of our abstract wildlife
And try to stop the waterfalls of my being.
Because I like wondering what you are talking about
With my mind’s paintings.
You aren`t allowed to know my tree’s crown
But keep describing the sunlight by always watering and kissing me.
Firstly Published on 2019 by Outcast Magazine
Outcast Mag link:https://outcastmag.com/volumes/once-upon-a-time/allowed/
Copyright © Zoleka Mannie | Year Posted 2020
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