Green Wilts Jealousy

I once told you a story in hopes of getting sympathy
About a previous lover
She always wore black, a lot like you
And when she mourned, she wore yellow
Who couldn’t keep a guy for longer than 3 months
And how I thought I’d be the one to change her,
But the only change that occurred was the cracks on my pericardium from all the shattered pieces my heart was
I once told you about my ugly past
Thinking you’d make it all go away
So why did you turn out to be a victim just like me?
I plucked out a leaf today
It was bright green with a certain zing I couldn’t place
It had pale white stripes that followed it till its tips
I realized that plucking it out would just be me killing it
So I just dropped it
Is that what I did with you?
My twisted mind always had the allusion that you’d hurt me first
Yet you let your fucking guard down
Poseidon would find it funny if you tried to drown him
And Thor would have no power on a sunny day
So how did you allow me control the weather,
When I was a shipwrecked rainy night?
You never trust a broken hearted man
I was a psychedelic mess
You should have taken me to a shrink
Not inherit my symptoms
Yours sincerely,
I’m not sorry for what I did

Realization

When I first saw her write
I thought her handwriting was illegible
But her words were beautiful
Like a supermodel with all her makeup on
Her thoughts were clouded
But her mind was a mess of brainstorm; flooded with words
Clarity hovered a long distance from her persona
Even though her mental room was unkept
Her ideas were stacks of perfectly arranged order
I stared in the mirror a second time to make sure I wasn’t seeing things
I wasn’t
I actually turned out to be all I dreamed of

Ankyloglossia

A starting line had always been the hardest one for him
Spellbound by the need to communicate and finding the right words
The first time he tried talking to a girl he was attracted to,
With his mind perfectly aware of the words he needed to say,
His voicebox, like a corked juice, refused to spill
His breathing got laboured as he literally choked on his words
He was never an orator. But we wasn’t a stutterer either
So he too was stunned at how easy it was for him to strike a conversation
As though she had perfectly understood his loss for words and made them up with hers
Where his voice faded and was lost like a washed off paint,
She dropped the silence like a suitcase filled with unwanted characters nobody deserves
So why didn’t it turn out as great as it started?
He was hurt the day he saw the girl he thought he’d spend the rest of his life with, with someone else
He, like a patient with peptic ulcer, couldn’t understand the fire he was feeling inside
He wished her death. But he loved her still
Striding through the dark like it was his birthplace
He never forgot, that life was never fair
Ojoro

Stockholm Syndrome

I could feel her pain
I could almost see the tears in each word she wrote down
Every line seemed to bleed all the misery her forefathers faced
Her every metaphor was just an obvious diversion from the sadness they weld
She muffled a laughter, all in an attempt to seem like things weren’t so bad
I admit she’s a good actor; but it would be delirium not to see through this obvious charade
She was like a textile designer doing a paint job of a renovated house
She was dying inside
It shocks me how no one else seemed to notice, or tried to
Her sadness was like the sound a wine glass makes when it kisses the floor
It was loud and reckless
Maybe a tumbler is called a tumbler because it tumbles over nothing
Just like her tears
Her eyes were wells buried in mirage; they bled all year long but bent in fake wrinkles of smiles at the first sound of human
She wasn’t heart broken, she was soul shattered
And although she never spoke a word to me, I clearly heard her voice calling out for help
She was beautiful. She was music
And I regret she never heard my cry in response
I couldn’t help her
I was the afflicter
She died in my warm embrace
Or maybe it wasn’t warm. Maybe it was fire
I cried when I lost her
She was my favourite play thing

Middle School Memories

Last night I read a poem and it was beautiful
And I was jealous. “Why can’t I write this good?”
And it took me back to middle school
When I’d made good grades, but not good enough for my dad
And my mom would ask why I couldn’t be like my cousin
And everyday I struggled to be like Daniel
And everyday, I forgot who I was
Until I finally got a total amnesia concerning myself
I looked in the mirror one morning and wondered who stared back
It wasn’t me. It wasn’t Daniel either
That night I sank in my bed and cried
I had no idea why
My lips felt too big
My nose too flat
My jaw didn’t feel shaped right
I wasn’t tall enough
I wondered what I did to God to make me never just right enough
My best always had a flaw
Last night I wrote a poem and it seemed great
And I thought I finally did something right
But it wasn’t about me
I wrote about my nephew, Andrew
And the more I read it, the more flaws I spotted
I could never show anybody anything I wrote
Why was I never good enough?
Last night I cried myself to sleep
I still don’t know why
And I didn’t want to, as I sunk myself in bed
Last night, I watched my phone die and I envied it
My heart beats an average of 4500 times an hour
And each beat seems to mock me
I could never reach high enough
Why should I even bother?
The last thing I felt good at, was loving
Yet I watched the love of my life skip like an arrhythmia
And she had a certain swagger as she walked off my life
My lungs never fulfill my lone desire of totally collapsing inside my chest
I’ve never contemplated suicide; I wouldn’t be good at it
Or would I?

Luna

She is not really bothered about how she looks
She just wants to dress like her emotions
She is not in black because she’s sad
Only because that’s the true colour of her smile
Her soul is the 70th shade of grey
Her eyes seem to be glowing from all the sun it reflects
Her lips twitch more in hisses than speech
Her face looks like the moon, call her Luna if you wish
She is a girl in black
Not because of the dress she’s in
But because of the melanin in her epidermis
She isn’t black, only her skin is
She despises her flesh, her cancer ridden skin
Yet she loves her flat nose and wooly hair
Cos even though her skin is tainted and dark
Her mind is brighter than her overheating poor city
She is a girl in black

To Survive

It was better at the start
When wounds healed faster than they came
When feelings described, were as they were
And love wasn’t just a game
It was better in the beginning
When paranoia was just a fake fear
But my paranoia was always real
And that was what brought distrust here
It seemed more interesting when we first began
Everyone loved fairly and equally
There was no fear of being heartbroken
Only of loving poorly
I prefer when I hadn’t known you yet
What you were capable of
I stole a glance at your heart last night
And realized I might not be strong enough

Chains In Links

Cradling her laps, body at rest yet mind racing
He tried to calm his emotions and never succeeded
His was a case he hadn’t found in his medical books
He could feel the walls breaking in, but didn’t believe it
Body at rest yet mind racing, cradling her laps
Worlds apart, hand in hand in light
Physics told him opposites attract
Yet he couldn’t deny the chemistry between he and someone he was so much like
Seemingly at peace, mind in pieces
How could one person bring him as much pain as sadness?
Lips contoured in a smile, heart wrenched in grimace
He wondered how much longer he could survive, living like this
Lips entwined, feelings distant
How could he feel nothing for someone he’d shared a lot with?
He wondered, feeling all the weight of the wall falling now
He claimed not to love her, but why did she have so much control over his feelings
Eyes showing flames, heart powerfully cold
This was never part of the plan, he thought but couldn’t say
He stared in her eyes feigning as much love as he could muster
And she stared back, smiling because he was just another foolish prey

Riddles And Writers

His mind was a forest of words
His head, an ivory chest of poetry
A ball of flowing rhymed lines
That he only hoped would coexist
With his daily growing addiction to this girl
Who in all his brightness, made him feel dull
Who he wanted to write about forever
But was scared she wouldn’t appreciate him at all
She was his sky, a clouded starless one
But that was all he needed
He only wanted something to look up to
Her rainless clouds were always a riddle
He hadn’t yet understood her
Yet she seemed far better than he ever wished
So he unknowingly sent her away
Feeling undeserved, knowing he sent away bliss
He turned empty as he expected
His wordbank got bankrupt
Everyday he regretted never having earned her
But she was gone, and gone forever

Beauty Sleep

Back on the floor, belly facing the sky
The doctor closed your eyes
I could swear you were asleep
Your nose no longer bled
Your lips no longer quivered
And in its usual sense of paradox
Death made you look perfect
I could swear you were asleep
The time bomb no longer ticked
It was already off
I could hear you say in your light voice,
“There’s no use crying
Your tears are as useful as bandaid is on cancer”
I still don’t know what your name would have been
I still don’t know why I waited in hopes you’d survive
But I thought we had a deal
You were meant to be alive
I could swear you were asleep

Happiness Isn’t Real

Two nights ago, I felt it for the first time
I could smell it draw closer
For the first time in forever, I saw the darkness slipping in
Dang! I missed this
It sipped in slowly, but definitely
My hands are still having tremors from the excitement
The blackness covered my soul
My heart turned pale
My lips turned dry
It has come back in full now.
I can feel my chest get darker and filled with everything but light
My epigastrium feels like hell just settled there
Oh how I missed this!
I can hear Satan laugh over my shoulder
I chuckle back
He stops laughing, probably out of fear
My bed feels like heaven once again
A heaven I never want to get out of
Don’t get me a psychiatrist
Trust me, I’m fine the way I am

Shower Pictures

Sometimes people aren’t as perfect as they make you believe.
I have spearheaded the greatest propaganda of my lifetime
Lying to everyone I’m better than my life actually is
I’m not half as smart as I portray
I’m the proudest being I’ve ever come across
I’m lazy to the marrow
The other day, my life fell apart, and I was too lost in my indolence to arrange the pieces
My mind is buried in hubris
This isn’t even a poetry piece
I hate my body
The frame, the size, the shape, the carrier
My favourite thing to do is engross my attention in anything at all just so I don’t wallow in self pity
I don’t remember what love tastes like
I lie. And I don’t mean the state of being horizontal
The last person I said “I love you” to, doesn’t know my real name
I miss the days when I was depressed
When I was scared of being happy
I miss having no one care about me
When I could be moody all day and not have to explain myself to anyone
I miss the blackness
I miss being dead inside
My life is a mess
I never deal with my shit
That’s a weak attempt at using metaphors
My favourite thing to do is engross my attention in anything at all just so I don’t wallow in self pity
I love lying more than I love life
This piece is the only truth I’ve ever written down
I love lying more than I love life
My least favourite thing to do is stand
I made someone I don’t feel a thing for, love me because I was bored
Life has never been fair
Ojoro