hope

hope is a delicate rage
where time is caged with want
when the click click of a silent watch
leads yearning into a next that never comes
braising a need that kneels and pleas
busking for saviours
from lungs that weary rarely knows
who swirl in minds when breath would be wasted
into thin air vacant of phonemes
 
one’s vacuum is a dense home
though eyes dangle upon pixelized shapes
and breathe in moans from screens
solitude is its own castle
with descending stone staircases
into dark caverns
where dwelling in cells
are soul’s desires
 
but in days without
across Saharan time
my cracked tongue is parched
stretching awkwardly for droplets from above
 
so throw some vowels
pitch a t before an s
dangle some speech
and make rain parade
upon my simmering heat