Olabode Joseph Oluwatayo Biography

To live in pencil lines,
As if drifting along the path of an arrow,
Creating boundaries; where lines should go,
Are lines not dots moving in a particular flow?
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Sleep always long to take my breath away,
But promises never to trouble any man's good rest,
A dreamland with vision faraway,
A giver and angel of a renewed breath,
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Laid in pools of his living blood,
as his heart sobs close to death,
liquor's swift judgement to death,
while travelling in the rainy flood.
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Maybe just a little push,
Perhaps a little more effort,
Or a little bit of the time,
That little word for my memory.
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Time with you was worthwhile,
Happiness the virtue that dearly drives,
Let those moment wets your seething thirst,
Before it eventually becomes your dried past,
...