one of the solos in my head keeps chanting that
uncertainty is the best way to contaminate time.
i, myself am not sure what i am meant to scream to that
because i am already living the truth of that statement,
i wake up furious because the sun keeps rising
and the days keep
along, yet i am still unsure.
i remain restless and risible in my uncertainty -
laughing and dancing without a cause.
waiting has finished the bones of my body,
it has thinned the threads of my mind.
i set each damned sun with bottles of bitter white wine because
i need to evade the questions in my head about why
my future is still yet to be written by some fat-bellied white
man in the concrete jungle across the sea.
questions demanding to know
if it is really necessary for my lips to be thus curled with cynicism.
surely i am too young for the darkness in my head.
that solo in my head, i think, should rather speak to me about danger
because uncertainty has a knack for creating desperation. please,
a chorus of solos in my head should proclaim a chilling message about danger, and guide me along the path of the smiling sun.