i you only need your hands to reach orgasm. & somewhere, a boy is teaching his body to become a man, gasping, moaning into his shadow, promising the darkness around him that this will be the last time they’d hold hands.
ii but what is addiction, if not some kind of explosion, yet you do not burn?
iii the bathroom holds too many secrets & here’s one: a boy pulls down his trouser, & then, his boxers, & after five minutes of driving his joystick back & forth, he breaks for the liquid that parted in forming him to cum out.
iv boy, you’re always returning to the church-- unholy. for months, you convinced your body it’s the temple of god.
v this act / this sin, is a function of science. the clergyman says there’s still heaven for boys like you, castigated by sunday sermons.
vi boy, somehow, the mirror reflects your body as ashes. yet you do not burn.
vii this poem is staring into your eyes, into the fire discolouring your irises. & as you can see, there’s no pleasure to unpack from all these flames.
viii the tongue breaks into a thirst for deliverance. & somewhere, a boy is undoing the touch of the devil from his chest, praying, whispering the name of god into his heart.
Hassan A. Usman, pen-named Billiospeaks, is 2/4 of Next Generational Poets. He studies Counselor Education at the University of Ilorin, Nigeria. His works are/forthcoming in SprinNG, IceFloe Press, Olúmo Review, Five South, Kissing Dynamite Poetry, Lunaris Review, The Shallow Tales Review, Arts Lounge, BANSI Demi-gods Anthology, and elsewhere. He’s on Twitter and Instagram @Billio_speaks.