I’ll write you memoir of horror
Then bury it in a dusty haze
As I recount my lifetime as untraceable of its identity
A soul that lost profanity across the dunes of the tropics
Was me, was never me.
I’ll write you of a haven that was a route to paradise
A compassed path engraved at the zenith of the suns reflected shadows
Binding me in exhausted streams of brutal winds
You may find my pen there
As my ink was a spine of the nearest cactus
Disintegrating my mind in twirls of plastics and rusted metals
The Mediterranean was where I would have drew lines of hope
Not in the middle of a sand storm that turned me divine
Just like most people, I write to escape from reality, but also to explore the seamless and endless dimensions in my head. I write from West Africa, but I am in deep connectivity with the rest of the word. Poetry is basically my thing, so my aspiration is to get people immersed in my works, finding solace, comfort, and pleasure therein.