I have totally lost it. The past few months of military service have rendered me absolutely incapable of constructing a coherent English sentence. So basically ,now i look like pre-volcanic 3rd degree burns Anakin Skywalker with the eloquence of Jar Jar Binks. In a desperate attempt to utilise the poison quilt i used to wield with suche ease,i have decided to pen a poem as a contribution to Prosaic magazine and in conjunction with its Ninja theme for the month of August.

Having been one of the founding members of an elite assasin force,the Ninja Muscle,it shouldnt have posed a problem to me and my comrades,given our perfect balance of intellect and toned abdomens (which,by the way,ridzal have lost and now he's trying to conceal his paunch by growing a goatee and donning an Ultimate Poets Shirt.)

Our Last Tango

so we brandished our swords
on the steps of the derelict supreme court
the night takes its time to breathe
as the moonlight intervenes
in the plural space between us
the freezing air gnaws away
at our skin,so when do we begin
the tango to end this dance of inertia

dance,muthafuckas,dance
groove,muthafuckas.groove

like string puppets painted black
our bodies intertwined
we rocked the casbah,exotic,erotic,the steel clashes
splashes of crimson lipstick grazed my cheek
"we'll kill each other like only lovers can,"
i sneered
"MAcHiNEs dont love"
you replied while applying the lipstick on your poison blade

dance,muthafuckas,dance
groove,muthafuckas,groove

at the bat of an eyelash,a fictional blinding flash
i stood triumphant with my right hand on my chest
i'll scavenge from her body everything i deserve
and leave the rest to the angel of death
i bathed in her venom and the midnight rain
i'll never find so much grace in love and war again.