Sometimes

Sometimes love doesn’t happen like in the movies
You don’t always meet a girl, make her laugh, get her to think about you
Y’all will not always have a quiet place to talk, have your first kiss, walk around holding hands
You might never meet each other’s parents, might never get engaged or even date
Sometimes love doesn’t happen like in the movies
You might meet someone you were destined to love, and just walk by them without saying hi
And you both will never see yourselves again
And you’ll have so many failed relationships, you’d be convinced there’s been a spell cast on you to never enjoy love or life or any major ‘L’ word philosophers use
But never forget to remember and be certain of this one fact
Sometimes love doesn’t happen like in the movies

When I first lost it

I used to be so hopeful, believing life had things to offer
I was born with my fingers crossed
So unafraid of the unknown, I strode in places I couldn’t envisage
Till I got my first bubble burst
When I first got disappointed, when I first lost faith
I screamed at infinity and walked out of immortality
Insufficient in strength, yet insisted on fighting my demons
Because I realised there was no outside helping force. I installed myself as the fourth member of the Trinity.

Remember Me For Something

All my life I never lived, I barely just from a distance observed others do so
And what a great view I had
So used to watching stars twinkle and the moon dance to their music.
I never mastered the art of enjoying the night, I wasted it all on just looking at the sky.
So addicted to taking pictures of blossoming flowers, I never had enough selfies
I got closer to my death than my birth today, and it occurred to me I never experienced life.
Dined with the devil for so long, I still never saw hell
Can I get a second chance?

Blank

Darkness. That’s what my eyes look upon as it rolls against my eyelids.
I seem to be getting used to be this emptiness.
This peace. Absence of light. Noiselessness.
Why had nobody ever told me this was bliss?
I would have died earlier.

Mental Lane

You really shouldn’t use words you don’t understand
Like love, soul, nature, death
These phenomena surpass your mental powers
Don’t play on grounds you know not who own
Stay in your mind’s lane

Happy

I love happy creatures. I love beings that just smile, and laugh and glister in the dark
All those individuals that let nothing thump their joy. That would dance regardless of who was watching
And would laugh whether or not you think their joke is funny
And would sing even though their voice sounds like a rickety vehicle
And would jump, just because, till they couldn’t feel their legs
I love happy creatures
It’s sad I’m not one. But I derive enough happiness from seeing others being just that – happy.

Vanity

Write songs of freedom, recite poems of love
Watch movies of perfection, read novels of won wars
It doesn’t make it not remain that your life is as messed up as my dead uncle’s.

The Old You

And for a moment, there you were. That same old smile I fell in love with. The same you that would piss me off by being overbearing and being a bug and being provoking and would taunt me and poke my ribs with your fingers.
For a moment, there you were. The old fun you. The one that would tell me I couldn’t sing and would hit my head and punch my gut.
For a moment, just for a moment, you came back. The look in your eyes, the sparkle when you smile. Your laughter. The one you no longer have. For a moment, I saw it all. I saw the old you. The one I miss. But it was just for a moment. It was just for a moment.

Flawed diamond

Just like after eating a sour meal at the close by cafeteria
My life is all shades of mess, I am convinced I’m fart material
My brain thinks in parts, my thoughts are sectioned
My mind got all kinds of stitches and bandages, the only thing I’m perfect in, is my imperfection
This second I’m happy, the next, my hormones are acting up again
My demons always have a field day with me, they must think it’s a game
I don’t know what to do with myself, I hate my image, I don’t like my jaw level
But this is who I am. It’s me. I’d rather be a flawed diamond than a perfect pebble.

image

Sun rise

I woke up thirsty but I’m too lazy to go get water.
I’m at a point where my interest in life is waning quickly. Nothing catches my fancy these days. I bare-chest-sit-on-my-chair-trying-so-hard-to-look-like-plato as I consider my thoughts while the sun is beautifully erected at the morning star – it won’t be beautiful in 3 hours time when it makes my skin rain. But for now, let’s enjoy its splendour. At least, that still catches my attention.
I wonder why people like me exist, why my head is more fucked than my pudendum. I look through the window as I perceive the smell of weed. Don’t these guys get tired? I regulate my breaths as I regulate my thoughts.
I convince myself this love thing is not for everybody. Some hearts can’t withstand the constant tachycardia it offers. I remember something else I’m still very much interested in, AKARA!
I consider my options. I decide emotional stress is not worth it.
You ever had a heart break before having a heart break? Like pre-heart break? My mind is vain.
I lay my head on my palm as light dew is dispensed from my anterior brain extension, yet I doubt this is csf.
I remember I’m still thirsty.

Why do you want to die?

Pissed at the world and every of its inhabitant, I lay on my bed wondering what I did to nature to deserve this much heat as some individual comes barging into my personal space – my room. I wonder what he wants. He says a lot of gibberish which I pay no mind to, as I wonder with all awe why humans want to die so much. With this heat and intolerant mosquitoes, this egg head has left my room door ajar. Why do you want me to commit murder so bad and suffer in prison?
PS: Do Nigerian prisons have constant light? It might be a reasonable alternative at this point.

Reason for living

I love being outside at 6:59 am. The view of the sun rising at the same time the moon is out is the same one she portrays with her smile yet tears in her eyes. It’s worth seeing every time. Making her cry and smile is what I live for. this is why I was born.

image

Climax

I love build ups. I love making a staircase and climbing to the top, the zenith as we reach the climax of events.
And that’s how I expected us to be. But each time we get close, each time the distance between your lips and mine reduce, I reach my psychological climax as her face replaces yours and my eyes turn into a water fall. I close my tarsal plates to avoid the lacrimal liquid from flooding my face and to wipe her image away, but every single time, she comes back.
I hear her say my name. I hear her say she misses me. Are we supposed to see images of the dead? Ghosts are not real, I tell myself, but my eyes refuse to believe my mind, because it’s her face that I see every single time.
I really want us to happen. I’ve waited for the climax for forever, but she, my past, hates my leaving her behind for you, my future.
There’s this crimson cord that binds us. And with every step I take to escape her grip, she matches my footsteps because she knows my every move. She knows my every move. Why can’t we climax?

Box

I was brought up within this box. I’m a flower, and this is my vase. I thrive within it, it gives me all the nutrients I require.
I was brought up within this case, within this round shaped box – ring. This is my home now.
I was brought up within this. How do you expect me to think outside it? I am the brain, I’m sorry I’m stuck thinking within the cranium.
I’m not innovative. I was born this way.