will i ever be more than a face lost in a billion other specs from up high can i ever be any else than a voice echoing hardly almost nothing just a cry...a shadow a broken figure a little child in a disastrous sea forbading forsaking ignoring the world just to be...just to be holy can i be holy will i ever be holy enough to be.
will i ever be more than a heartache a dying a stolen movie line can i be anything other than another life trying and failing and falling crashing into a bottomless pit of emotions hightened only cause it is who i am and all i should be a hollow substance of humanity almost nothing but a grim machine of respiration and unwellbeing swimming across the same old space just to be above where i can never be holy only enough just to be.
can i ever get closer even close enough to just feel the warmth the distance why are you so far from where i stand a little child afloat but drowning if only i can be closer and higher and away from here this world clouding my eyes and my dreams that you seem to be farther and farther each day i try to be holy enough just to be maybe thinking i'll be less than light years away...when i'm holy.
Still Living on my Feet is the follow up to Tichaona Chinyelu’s first book, In the Whirlwind, which was rooted in a sense of hard-hitting revolutionary black love. However, in this sophomore effort, Tichaona brings the revolutionary essence from deep