Did the mouse love the trap,
as the cross loved Jesus?
Are you even listening.
I spent an infinite years in
that house with the forever closed curtains,
observing mice that scurry to and from
the holy mosque of the Tripoli
at the end of every street.
Was that the extent of
my love? …I’m too scared to ask of yours.
(I'm sorry for placing the traps,
I was convinced it was harmless.
You stared right at me as
you stepped towards it,
I assumed at that point,
you knew what was meant by it.
When I thought of Jesus,
I thought of the mouse, forever trapped.
I thought of love,
I thought of cruelty, and I
thought of you and me.)
When we reenacted Gaddafi's death
a thousand times over to the
break of night.
when if when i
if its allowed when WHEN
when we
reach that seventh heaven,
I will first ask God what
sort of paradise is promised for the mouse,
and what for the trap.
the military & politics
the misery of inceldom