June 2015

His The Hurricane

I knew who you were and I begged my heart not to love you. I knew you would take me to museums, beautiful parks and waterfalls. We would go for picnics and movies,take walks along the street,explore galleries and attend cyphers. You would pull me in so deep that I would never survive without you. I knew who you were. I knew why you would do that… So that I never forget you,you made sure every place reminded me of you, if I ever returned to those places I would taste you afresh like blood in my mouth, my heart would hit the pavement like gun shells. I would miss you like air when I’m drowning. You made yourself a billboard at my doorstep.. I could never leave without remembering you. You would have kissed me in the rain and under the stars…now the sky is a book with our memories. I warned my heart, I told it to stay put and hidden behind the only barrier that could contain it, but it played my ribs like a xylophone till they let it


out. You were a lesson I learnt in a class I didn’t sign up for. You would break and tear down the armoury that shields me. And now  Because of you,I know why storms are named after people.



prisoner of sight

You looked yourself in the mirror and instantly looked away. you couldn’t bear look at yourself because of what everyone else said. so you took a sledge hammer to the reflector of your affliction. you watched the glass shatter ad your image with it. You felt a pang of peace, because you would then go out, go out into the world unaware of your appearance, so in that brief moment you feel beautiful, you feel pretty enough. so you smile as you stroll down the road, nodding your head to the tunes beating away in your headsets. its a lovely moment is it not? up until someone shatters it by sneering you, smirking as you walk by. your world begins to toil and turn, spin and stumble. you lose coordination left is right and right is left. hurricanes released instead of endomorphins. your world starts to spin off its axis as if the galaxies are playing tether ball. your life is encamped around barriers guarded by iris and retina. We have all passed through this prison like a rite of passage and others that were beyond scared decided to become wardens. we have been prisoners of sight, because we have been called ugly, disgusting, to skinny, to fat, to short, to tall. we have ben stamped as the very definition of imperfect and its like a tattoo on your face, everyone can see it and read it.

Its Not Okay


You love him, and that’s what killing you. Your watching him love someone else. And because you can’t let go,you have a front row seat to watch it. Its like a dagger to your heart, but you don’t pull it out cause its the only part of him you have, and even if its killing you,its still a part of him you can say you have.

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