By Ruvimbo Munemo
A story in which my body is a doomsday device.
In which my mind is a doomsday clock
Constructed from all my thoughts
Tick-tick-ticking towards my failing
Convincing me I’m all but surviving.
In which my hands are swords that pierce and impale
Ripping me open with every touch,
Seeking to uncage the trapped soul within.
In which the garden of every word I’ve ever said
Is pervaded by weeds and thorns that slit my ankles
Every love I’ve ever destroyed is a bur on my skin.
In which the air I breathe is nitrogen, oxygen and shards of murdered aspirations
That cut up my insides where my hands cannot reach and my mind cannot conquer.
In which the ground won’t swallow me 6 feet under
And the ceiling of my room caves in every night but never kills me.
In which every day I exist is doomsday.
Name: Ruvimbo Munemo
Location: Stellenbosch, South Africa
About the Artist:
“As cliché as this might sound, writing has always been a way of life for me. It has been a means of
survival… much like breathing. It is so much more than just words and cleverly constructed imagery.
It is the sign of life in my soul, exhaled onto paper. It is all the worlds in me being born. It is a
confirmation that I am more than this bag of flesh and bones.
My writing is an extension of my self-expression… a medium for me to exist in, outside of the one I
already dwell in. It gives me allowance to be more than just this mortal limited being… an elysian
demi-god maybe. I guess what I’m just trying to say is I cannot live without writing. I cannot live
without the idea that words can save me.”
Contact: firstname.lastname@example.org Instagram – rue.munemo Twitter – regal_ruin