Afzal Moolla


 

 
Masks.
 
Fingers,
clawing at my face,
slipping beneath the facade,
 
tugging, tearing, flailing,
 
stripping off the veneer,
exposing the fragmented decay,
cloaked,
under this mask I wear today.
 
Hands,
groping for another layer,
embroidered on my thin skin,
 
peeling, rotting, searing,
 
shaving away the truths,
entwined in a jagged kiss,
revealing,
the vacuum of an emotional abyss.
 
Fleeing,
from myself yet again,
bound for nothingness,
 
desolate, cold, empty,
 
lost on barren pathways,
bruising my heart as I tread,
shuddering,
at the horrors that lie ahead.


Copyright 2012 Afzal Moola

 
Afzal Moolla was born in Delhi, India while his parents were in exile, working as anti-Apartheid activists for the African National Congress.

Afzal subsequently travelled wherever his parent's work took them. He still feels that he hasn't stopped travelling.

Afzal currently works and lives in Johannesburg, South Africa and shares his literary musings with his most strident critic - his 12 year old cat.