where i come from we selectively give destinies to stillborns &
                  become humans unlearning how to draw identities from shadows of lights
I was a story spilled from the mouth of unearthed little images.

                    the ocean spat me out yesterday

i washed up at her feet with a wetness of fear
               walking daily with disinterested hands in my pockets that spill trails of my sadness.

sometimes i think I'm a visitor in my own body
                   wishing the world could be cold
          with life flowing into a mathematical equation
that only leads to an approximate answer
             but i guess lying in the shadows of metaphors
       is probably the formula to life.

father had scars like burnt marks of atonement on his skin
          they    were fountains where untold stories seeped out.

Michael Anyanwu is a student of English and Literary studies and a copyeditor at Campusxp Magazine. He is obsessed with things filled with grief and pain. He is in a deep relationship with his earplugs.