A hermit without a shell is a
weak, pitiful creature.
It wonders alone for onlookers to
moisturise their naked skin with
empty tears.
They feel no shame when mocked
for their fetishized strife;
flagrantly flailing their flaking skin
to justify their tantrums.
The terror and turmoil that it sheds
plagues even those passingly amused.
Until we are all naked, afraid and alone.
Eye, make up your mind
Undressing me like a windscreen wiper,
Up and down
Until your sprinklers emit a teary drool
Then dressing me up?
Make up your mind
See to your heart’s content
Glued to my perfect composition
Watch until your eyelid dries up
I’ll blow you a wet kiss to moisturise it
Hand me your caress
I can feel you all over me
In your line of vision
Lend me a gentle stroke,
But you cannot touch
Softly press all the pressure points,
Until the gushing waterfall
And you ****** a wink
And maybe forces you to shut
Are you convinced that I wear genuine leather,
A flawless bodysuit?
Goosebumps decorate the beautiful design
Finger trails dissolving as it deflates and inflates
Your complexion paling and reddening instantly
Hold your nervous emission
Then open the other eye
Into a permanent stare
Thabang Jan Ngoma
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