Death Is Bliss (for Amina) pain poems are sadist hidden in dark tunnels in dark alleys each running with a dilaudid in their headlight in their neon light disable hashtag a hearse in sleep drones takes them beyond into a house full of sunlight where life was a boy dangling in the arms of laughter with the silver shades playing tag among the trees but now eras gran cosa each night is a train station leading to nowhere death is bliss... A Sea Calls You Home grisly images hastily shoved under grins: flags written on a dark skin cave into water submerge on a bed of stone each dragged puff makes a bundle feathery – sullen moon as that of a divorcee’s sighs and grunts when fatherly smooch behind mouth-brothel another moon visit on a suicide channel your ears tingle a seagull sleeps with a rizla in between fingers on a table with spilled milk, burnt tortilla on griddle pungent cottons rusty hip pop blares from LCD subsisting on rags of redemption from nightmares in baritone bites Bio: Ojo Taiye is a young Nigerian who uses poetry as a handy tool to hide his frustration with society.
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April 2024
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