I Must Not

When night spills over the canvas of my midnight,
I wake up from a sleepless catastrophe feeling the stars
In my mouth waiting to be spit out into the vacuum
Of what I think I hold together.
Jitters at the back of my hand are bonding
With the voraciously trembling heart,
And the mind, oh, the mind
Is as stationary as the last laugh.
I dip my paintbrush into–
Into the encumbrance of fireworks,
That has gradually minimalized itself
Into a ball of fire, that is one day going to consume me,
That is one day going to heal me, that is one day going,
I stroke an eternity over the lightness of the canvas
And watch it give birth to lives–both born and unborn–
and when the unborn stills my heart,
I bellow into the skies!
Calling out to the daylights!
Once again ignoring my midnight like it’s
Smothered in embers of defame and unbecoming pride.
This time, I dip my finger and carefully draw–
“I must not”
For the feelings I have and will continue to gnaw.


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