Erotomania Poem by Benjuzzy Okpuzor

Sober brown branded
On my thin face, a voice
Still cries from the east
Of the rines,

Barren of bread, and
Brandy's of life, waiting
For a delusional love upon
A distance shore,

Day, and night my empire
Mind envisage that
Emerald eyes, a crimson love
That seems so far fetched,

From the poor play of a
Carpenter's son I came to you
But can anything good come
From Nazareth you raised your

Voice, I gave the whole I owe,
The best part of me, for the
Best part of you, yet that which
I ever wanted was your lips on

My name, and non that need
Be spoken, for love is a curse,
But blessed are poet's with it,
This honey comb might be my

Tomb though, but I must dare,
For I told death my trumpet
Will triumph, the grave grief
Before me, for my poetry is

Hope, and home, and now my
Darkness is done at dawn,
Delusion elude's me, but that
Cracked heart, is haggard,
And might never love again.