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"Lion in Antarctica"
The rain in December…
 felt like teardrops of acid, creeping down my back
 It was the feel of a thousand tarantulas, crawling down my spine
 down the isle of my arms
 down the corridors of my legs, biting me to near death
 The Grimm with its fleshless, skinless skeletal hands
 covered my mouth, before I screamed
 
 The snow in June…
 felt like a kaleidoscope of needles, penetrating my melanin
 ‘til I bled the roses of Eden
 It made me numb, as a newborn, being baptized by a nun
 I refused to cry
 It was the feel of a thousand desert scorpions
 laying their eggs
 eating me from the outside in
 
 High school has made me feel like…
 a snowman in Haiti
 ice in the hands of Hades
 my own heart, when people say they hate me
 I have been slowly melting for the last three years
 It’s made me lost as a lion in Antarctica
 once warm-hearted, but now my soul is concealed away
 in Pandora’s Box
 
 I am a lion in Antarctica 
 My once beastful heart is a growing glacier of gluttonous sins
 My intestines is a cold-blooded King Cobra
 biting away at my rabbit fur soft stomach
 It makes me nauseous
 It makes me vomit a beautiful heap of memories
 into the toilet of the Pacific Sea
 
 In that heap…
 I see my stepfather, flexing the Noah’s Ark upon his face
 Joshua, walking out the eighth grade class for the last time
 Both now dead, but at times their fists bust through their coffins
 in my mind
 I know…I’ll be…with them…one day
 
 There are the raindrops on my mom’s face, had flowed 
 down from the sky of her eyes
 She was crying because bullets made an entrance
 through our windows…and slept in our walls, one night
 It was there in a 12th Street house
 
 Sometimes I feel like the deaths in Edgar Allen Poe’s 
 ‘Sleepy Hollow’…and the sympathetic lyrics in
 Marshall Mather’s ‘Relapse’, written into one chronicle
 Its title being my full name, Kavon Cortez Jones
 Only difference is…
 No Vicodin and Xanax pills
 No ‘Headless Knight’
 unless the moon is decapitated from its invisible stem
 
 No damsel to pattern my fingers with
 No love songs, just crush poems, about girls I liked,
 but they didn’t want me to be the beholder of their hearts
 nothing…
 just me
 a poet 
 a lion…lost…in Antarctica-

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