Mind you, it's unfinished. Someone remind me to work on it.
Praying to the alter of 20,000 gods
Each body a sacred temple that you've entered through and through
Letting the spirits speak to you and run their ideologies, through and through
As you trekked the labyrinth of their satin, pink soft walls
Do you count the lives you've taken?
Are you akin to human nature?
Were you a Christian crusader, pillaging and stripping the Muslim women of their virtues?
As-salam alaikum
No alaikum as-salum
For strangers
Tell me, can you taste the tears that they have cried for you?
[Can you] speak the words they held so closely to the hearts you broke so mercilessly?
Fear that you would scar them
Knowing you'd escape from them unscathed
I have walked the city streets of Sodom and Gomorrah with you
I have fed on the flesh you massacred
With syrup tongue and teddy bear eyes
I tell you, my friend,
There is no country for old men
Who spent their young boy days
Running through daughters the way a river
Runs over boulders in its stream
There is no room for the cycle of hate and misogyny that men perpetuate to their sons
No room for women in a world that believes corrective rape and genital mutilation will keep their gardens fertile and weed-free
There is no dignity for those men
Now tell me, dear friend
Can you count the number of curtains you've pulled over their gazing faces?
Do you remember the dip of each set of lips you've softly kissed?
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