I fancy myself a literary demon.

Putrid Pastures by Melo Mokhosi

Droplets fell on my face and it was then I knew. Tears that wouldn’t let themselves run dry. It had been too long to cover shallow graves. Looking back all I am filled with is disgust. Alienated from the passion in every way. Please don’t ask me what it was all for. I’ll only ever give you half answers.

Love letting itself turn otherwise. I knew that the end was closer than genesis. And that it was a mirage of mythical creatures. When dragons run out of whatever they breathe. You probably knew that I’d leave soon. For putrid pastures and now.
It’s been like this.
Feels foreign.

Intoxication by Melo Mokhosi

Sunshine made the cold a bit more bearable. What we felt was intoxication from moonshine. Longing for the high given off by your affection.
Happiness left us a message said lapis lazuli.
Thankful for the presence of angels on Earth.
Guides for you and I and there we were in sync.
Indigo telepathy so much so we shape shifted.
Becoming what the skies had always intended.
Your eyes looked like all the universes moons.
Waves and the air around us felt like a tsunami.
Lost in the sensations we felt and out of control.
Still having the power of ancient deities in love.
Exhausting it all only for it to rebound off of you.
Lasting several lifetimes together because we have enough energy. Feeding off the longevity of what we’ve created. Going on until something comes out of the void.

The Impermanence of Things by Melo Mokhosi

I thought you were able to read my mind as I did yours. You probably could and didn’t care enough given the thought. Like I’m not going to to be what it is you want and that’s fine. Without hints to the uncertainty of what we were to become. Not as you did when you still thought I was something worth investigating. A case study I turned out to be and you didn’t do that well either.
There were moments where it all felt like magic but they were fleeting. You said the end was near in other words and I missed not of it. So when it happened I knew that it already had and it was easier. I cried way before the universe made peace with the impermanence of things. Memories were all that were left in it’s longing for love. Everyday it becomes more of a blur; how we lied so underhandedly. It was almost as if we still cared about the emptiness. Like it was all we had nurtured this whole time and now we’re free. Of the pretence and energy that had better purpose elsewhere. The meaninglessness of everything made it as beautiful as it was.

Winter Nights by Melo Mokhosi

Winter nights so cold the breeze felt brisk.
Pure in existence like I could devour the wind.
New experiences unlike reminders of great thirst.
Thin lines between reality, you and I.
Transcendent passions in the warmth of our fire.
Stayed a little bit longer than you did yesterday.
Through your eyes the moon looked prettier.
Personifications of celestial fetishes.
Like bodies are planets and feelings lava.
It all felt like butter being rubbed on my skin.
A nude aura made me feel like the end was near.
Colours without names but their own memories.
Like they had remembered themselves for us.
Moments captured only by the unreal.
Trips to the after life and within.
Trances like abstract art.

Wet Summer by Melo Mokhosi

The worst droughts are experienced in winter.
Ask Nepal and thank the skies for a wet summer.
Healing came through the light and the waters.
Clairvoyance from having been through it all.
Our love was birthed in treacherous trenches.
Like a freak of nature and ravaged boondocks.
After that things were never be the same darling.
You and I were never prepared for great famines.
Good fortune made us oblivious to marauders.
Because all there was, was bliss but also loot.
It’s as if we were always moving on but on what.
We kept ourselves moving *on and that was that.
Like we had never left what had become home.
Questions asking if this would be the death of us.
Dry winters shed light *darkness on what works.
Summer came and summer put all of our misadventures on hold.

Spaceship by Melo Mokhosi

Only a few people I’d board a spaceship for.
All of them aren’t here because distance is.
Travels to the the unknown and I’ve been there.
I keep trying until all I can do is be a lighthouse.
Meditations after daydreaming and exhaustion.
Learnt patience from having loved long and hard.
Beautiful burdens that give me hope in the future.
A past of things we always took the wrong way.
Toxic fumes inhaled in the aftermath of space.
Silences that went on and on and refused to die.
Blessings we forgot to count when it rained milk.
Sweet honey and the hallucinations it induced.
In moments that felt like we would never detach.
Abstractions all around us in retrospect and fear.
Places housing the ghosts of promises unkept.
Promises demanding that they be remembered.

Senselessness by Melo Mokhosi

All we needed were a few more months. Senselessness would have been averted. Regrowth but what does that matter now.
Other than our perception going forward.
Where you predicted stillness in the dust.
It had filled my eyes no longer than a ritual.
Opening them to your absence all along.
Supposedly in it together but it was all me.
Deeper than I had ever anticipated the fall.
Foolish how everything else passed me by.
Waiting for sunken vessels like dreaming.
Slaving away for what was never my master.
By the end it’ll at least be worth whatever.
That which kept me going and thats enough.
Enough to please the ether because order.
Proud to have gotten so close to the dream and given up.

The Essence of Jazz by Melo Mokhosi

Clairvoyance in the night time.
Vibrations like the essence of jazz.
Everything around me was swinging.
Yet I was still and you were a lightbulb.
It all felt like a trance how colourful it was.
Learning from the ways of your dark arts.
Switching bodies after leaving the club.
Witchy how we morphed into regret.
Hungover the next morning and yawning.
For what seemed like the time it took to nut.
Not a lot to talk about, the romantics of it.
That had nothing to do with fornication.
Unreal how detached we both were.
Numbers exchanged, secret codes.
Call you later when I feel better.
See you again perhaps.

Nothing by Melo Mokhosi

Suicide is an honorable death. What’s there to talk about but yesterday. Because tomorrow doesn’t exist. Now I die and it’s all on me. Wow! Like I couldn’t be alone. Thoughts that suffocate the air. Taking on the nothingness of existence. And knowing that what is, isn’t. Existence is a void. Times I’ve like an alien. Looking for the way out. To where survival is nothing. Nothing oh how I love the word. And what it doesn’t mean and the void. A void like death and what lies beyond black holes. Alas! Here I am on Earth being Tumelo.