A Question

Am I here?

Can you see me?


Here, let me stand on a table.

Now can you see me?


How about if I wave my hands?



If I grab that knife right there

and slice open my guts,

will you see me then?


How about if I command the

sun to speak the language of

the rain?

Drops of sunlight fall from clouds

of stardust.


will I be visible?


If I wash my feet

with the magic water

of Kinjikitile Ngwale

and kick up the dust of

the sands of time,

dragging the mud

all over the faces of

a people ejected

from their own past.


will they see me?

What if I break past

the guardians of their

selves and steal their

desire, replacing it

with broken shards

of nothing

causing them to

consume more emptiness

thus feeding the

void; creating an emptiness

that only expands.

will I exist?

Or must I speak

to Florence. The seven

devils all around us

dancing for their entertainment.

The exorcism of Emily Rose

was only a metaphor

for the exorcism of Emily Rose.

(do you see now?

We are nothing but versions of ourselves)

Then there are sentences

Then there are words

Then there is music

Then there is

but where am I?

Will I be there?

Or will there just be a metaphor

for where I am?



Can you see metaphors?

Can your eyes catch the light

just as it bounces off the last

syllable of a forgotten smile?

Single out the teardrop

that carries the story

that is too vast

to be constricted

by the idea of a language

that only has 26 letters?


Or do you imagine yourself

to be seeing images of

a presence that you have created

and given my name.

Programmed to such a degree

that it is unrecognizable

even to itself.

Thus the code begun to eat

itself and your vision reduced

to ideas of white noise and infinite



Does my metaphor know

how to say please, thank you?

Does my metaphor affirm you?

Does it use a fork and knife at the table,

commenting on how good the wine is,

‘Sauvignion Blanc goes well with everything, they say.’

Does my metaphor talk about share capital and entrepreneurship?

Does my metaphor listen to the ideas of

nouns that I can barely recall?

Does my metaphor colour the heroes of your past in

Red, blue, purple, green and black?

Or does it remind you of their faults?

Does my metaphor believe in heroes?

Do you even listen to my metaphor?

Or is it just there to act as a seen presence

for an unseen absence.


Does my metaphor know how to disappear,

like I quickly learned?

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