Late Submission by Eli Oko

So I havent written anything in a while

Because I couldnt submit things whilst ill at home in my bed coughing up phlegm the length of strings

And playing them in my head like symthanys, pitying myself

Because I couldn’t submit things and promote them on my twitter whilst I am travelling with so many thoughts pumping in my mind

And with no wifi or network I take photos still, hoping still

We call that air time

Because I couldn’t submit things whilst in pain about the pain I felt missing him

Not being able to say 4 letters within 3 words between the 2 of us for 1 result

And with no paper just pens I felt lost because even the wood from the trees had more carvings and stories and as she bit into it and told it – I was lost between her words

Because I couldn’t submit things whilst ill in my bed with what feels like fever and a broken spine

I would write but who am I to try and define why there is work but no work, they’ll never get my ethics

Yet they’ll try and fail and that’s a mess, so I slept

Because I couldn’t submit things when there are so many ears paying attention, I get more views daily and wonder if I know them, If I’ve met them

I guess its all for the way it feels to release but lately I realease until my eyes are red and sore and the pain in my temple feels sacred

Because I can’t submit without a space of silence, When it’s my time

No expectations from Eli she can be who she wishes, mixed visions

Like the masks I passed of different faces

So I submit my late submissions hoping that no one saw the gaps in my s p a c e s.
So I havent written anything in a while

Because my mind lingers and trips

Over everything it dwells on

I wonder if I’ll have a trail to follow at the end that can lead me back to sanity

Or help me to understand, at least, where I have come from

We went to two beaches and each gave me the chill and unexpected fear that a boat may come crashing into shore 

demanding his heart back 

Like the ones I write about in my poems

And I imagine a wall errecting from the sea bed, building around me

Creating spaces

Separating me from the familiar faces and sounds I used to 

Know

And as I drift into deeper sleep I

Forget

Because I couldn’t submit things knowing my mind was not stable for it’s stability my readers crave, in the most twisted way

They all read between my lines and find alibis to subtract their existence from my reality

But that’s reality – so its fine

And I submit my late submission

Hoping that no one sees the gaps in my s p a c e s.

Any Thoughts?

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