Olubunmi Fatoba

The Twist like a wheel like a curl unstable cruel and mean furlong, forgone, is this life you live.

The palpitation that accompanies a  boom The appearance of crystal quaky storms In the voyage  Of intimacy _ In a flawless peace of extreme ecstasy. The mystical rhythm of deeds buried in the loo. Simplicity is the soul of writing the depiction of complexity In it, we lay our deepest fears and cloth it with fragrance. We flush out risks in the voyage of displaying simplicity, mount on illusioned wings to  make a simple proof like how they buried their deeds in the loo.

The extension of influence is a matter of cooperate independency. The numerous agitations and wailings of the heart is a famous bewilderment to its owner. This room bears the aroma of archaic alienation.  The innermost longing for a messiah like the dudes in "waiting for Godot". The enthronement of strength built in centuries by a flip flop. Mechanical accuracy is not witty enough to create an emblem of propriety.  Hike hiked away with Megalodon, the white object received adoration as a cremation for the pureness left in that scheme.  The intuit fear of attempting to attempt. The satisfaction in attempting after all. The will of a writer or a poet or a furlong poet.  The waiting room for many wish. The benignity of benign.  The hullabaloo here stirs more stirs of stirs.  Donne says, "let us sport while we may". The assumption of a sudden ownership of what you thought you kept for years. Like the landlord, you barged in with full ownership, alas!! you fell into your

this shimmering object built a castle in our dining, planted a grip in our heart, sent us torrents of hopelessness, a fog to our dreams. It mocks like cunts, at the life we desired. we watched as it dangles with lifeless lives.