Love is a Geppetto, and

Wooden-mouthed dummies wish to be real –

To smell musk sharp and familiar;

To taste the salt of flesh;

To hear damp, ragged breath against the ear;

To see beads of sweat hanging from the hairline;

To drag fingers along solid dreams.

 

A thousand Pinocchios roam the countryside 

Running from Geppetto

Slamming into each other

in a mad attempt to finesse Love from its hiding place.

Because of contusions, Love evades them.

 

“I am ready for Love. Why are you hiding from me? I’d quickly give my freedom to be held in your captivity.”

At night, the desperate babbles of loneliness sound 

Cacophonous screams in cotton drift down to the streets.

Pinocchios lie to themselves during the day about their deplorable state, and no one knows

Except Natalie, who being a night walker, will promptly report the plight of the loveless faction, the pandemic of empty beds.

That bitch can never ignore a good scream.

 

Love hates manipulation.

Jina lako nani?

Puppets hate to be played with.

Jina langu ni Upendo.

Geppetto sits in the corner carving wood until his fingers bleed.