Today I laid and thought what it would be like at my funeral
And I know it’s completely arbitrary. Everyone has had those thoughts, right?
And it occurred to me, I’m arbitrary
I’ve never really touched anyone
Of course, there’ll be a bunch of people there saying a few nice things
My classmates, a few teachers, colleagues from school
One or two girls I once flirted with
My high school friends, my girlfriend
My ex girlfriend…
There would be more females there
They’ll say how nice I was on the inside
How my laughter was like 7 am sunrise,
I always wanted everybody to be happy
They’ll tell of how smart I was
And didn’t like being lost in the crowd
Esther would mention how she adored my writings
Pat would tell you how good a kisser I was
Ann would not rest on how caring I could be even though I hated showing it
They’ll all lie
They’ll mention how much of a happy person I was
Nobody would say how I was boring
Or didn’t like people
That I felt empty on the inside
Or that I was a gas station with a fire leak, two seconds away from blowing up
How I was stolid, if we’re being nice, but anhedonic in reality
Gift would say how I was the best guy she ever dated
If only Temi was alive, she’d say how much she learnt from me
Iye would be so depressed, she’d cry through the whole procession unable to utter a word
Nehemiah would say I was a great friend. He’d wipe a man tear
They’d all lie
My brothers would cry after a day or two
They’d miss me, even though all my life, all our lives, all I did was stay away from them
Joy would wish she talked with me more
But Shugie, she would never shed a tear. She’d know it’s all a lie
She’d tell everyone I’m alive and it’s all a prank
She wouldn’t care that my body was there, cold in a casket
She would swear I’m smart enough to pull something like that off
She would break down after a week
Keep away from everybody. Cry herself to sleep
And cry back to sleeplessness
There’d be regret in her tears. “Only if…”
She’d slim down. She knows how much I hate her being hungry, but she wouldn’t care
Nothing would numb it down
She would date again, after two years
Every six weeks, she’d see someone driving a Rav4 Toyota SUV, or someone with my haircut, and she’d break down again
Nothing will ever console her. No one will
Or at least, that’s what I choose to believe
Knowing someone would grieve me
Maybe having the thoughts that I’ve touched someone’s life would make death not so bad afterall
Maybe suicide isn’t so bad afterall
You all astound me.
You reach new highs of lows every now and then
After all the love we shared and the life we lived
You forget me and stop thinking about my demise in less than a week.
Weren’t you supposed to at least still miss me?
To at least remember? And think back to the times when we still chilled?
But Nah! Two days after I go, so do my memories
The worst part about death isn’t what it does to you – like what can it do again, you’re already dead, right? – it’s about what it does to others.
They who survive
The rest of us
Just like yours did to us
And because you don’t see me cry –
You not seeing my tears, is all a charade put up to send away pity looks
And to make it less obvious I’m bereaved
But because you don’t see my eyes swollen from crying does not imply my heart doesn’t grieve
Because you left more than a mark in our hearts
You left scars
Which we cannot erase
Or even hope to
And just because my eyes don’t seem wet, does not mean my thoughts are dry
I miss you like an amateur shot
Rest now, rest.
Sometimes I wish I had a sister who loved pictures as much as I do, and was just as mean – to others, so we’d take cute selfies all day and make others wish they were our siblings
Other times, I just wish I had a lover. Someone who would adore every part of me like she was my mother, and I’ll lay my head and her belly and she’d play with my hair and we’d talk about things we probably won’t remember the next hour and we’d discuss feelings, and we’d tell ourselves we love ourselves and we’d mean it.
Sometimes I wish I had a life, and wasn’t locked away in a cell in my mind, and wasn’t scared of speaking out my thoughts and didn’t go dumb every time I stood in front of my crush.
You see, I never was alone, but I died slowly of loneliness. I sometimes wish evil on those who never noticed me, but if I were them, I would never have either.
What do you do when the one you would do anything for doesn’t deserve anything?
The one person who means everything, never means anything
And you got only one reason to try living, but then again
Your reason for staying alive doesn’t realise that you are
What do you do? What then would be the best course of action?
The right route when you publish love to someone blinded to it
And they leave you.
Just like you left me.
I some times think of how long it took me to make you see me
Yet that’s all you did, see me. You never looked beyond now, and what we could have been in an hour
Your thoughts were always caged and your heart blocked
I never had the key to your mind’s lock
Yet I Houdini’d my way through the bars of your caged ventricles
Only to get under, under heart arrest
And sentenced with four words, “I don’t love you”
Couldn’t you at least try?
Couldn’t you at least see that I was the only one worth loving?
The only one that wanted the best for you?
I concluded, and consoled myself with lies like, “I’m better than you.” “I’m out of your league”
Or my favourite one, “You don’t even like you. That’s why you wouldn’t want to accept your only salvation”
We say a lot of things we don’t mean
I often used to tell myself
Cos each time you said “don’t make me break your heart”
It was already a threat to my health
And I kept up the facade of saying I was heartless
All in a bid to protect the shattered pieces left
But with how good you guarded yours
I should have seen that a heartbreak was what I would have gotten at best
We could have been a couple.
You were my muse, my reason for wanting to try
Now, now, there’s no purpose. There is no purpose.
I always contemplated what it felt like to have superpowers.
To be able to float through walls and pass inbetween individuals without being spotted.
Ghosthood has always been my myth.
You provided the perfect opportunity.
With the magnitude of your strength to ignore me, I felt invisible all the time.
And I still do.
When will you ever see me?
Baby girl, I’m sorry, but I don’t know if I’m in love with you
I really can’t tell
I’m sorry if I ever sounded like a relationship connoisseur. But I’m equally confused.
I really don’t know, but one thing I’m sure of is I want to talk to you all the time
And have weird conversations, and you’d be just mine
And we’d discuss very awkward things like sex and aliens and the economy.
All I know is I never want to not hear you
And be with you, and hear you say you love me
I want to know how your day went
I want to hear all the tiny little details like how your toothbrush kept hurting your gums
And I want to see that perfect smile
And I want to dance with you with no music on.
I know. I’m stingy. I want a lot for myself
But baby, all i really need is you
I’m totally into everything you like
Can you make me one of those?
Can I be the silver to your blue?
I want to be your dream guy
So sleep girl, sleep.
And when you wake, I want to be the first thing your eyes see when they flicker open
I love your after-sleep face, and your morning breath.
Let’s introduce our mouths, let our lips meet
You’ll be my baby and I’ll be “zaddy”
Let’s be goofy together
Let’s be goofy together, girl
I walk through a dark cemetery looking for whatever it is I was now
My mind raced. This was nighttime. Should I not be on my bed jollying to good sleep?
A thought comes on; “what if…?”
“What if what?” I reply
Why exactly am I scared?
In a flash, I stop fearing death. I become unafraid.
A quote I made when I was younger crosses my head
The day you lose all your fears, be scared. Be very scared. Because at that moment, they no longer are fears; they become threats
I decide to walk back home all the while convincing myself I’m unscared
I tell myself that it’s all just organized gibberish I probably made up when I was bored
I receive a call from an unknown number, I wonder who it is
In a twinkle after I look down at my phone a little longer than I should and see the lights of a trailer – which I suspiciously don’t hear – fastly honking and approaching me,
My senses return, and I seem to see a light approaching me
Is this heaven? No, heaven should be brighter.
My eyelids flutter and my mind stutters.
If this isn’t heaven, then…
Unpretty inaudible words only I seem to hear spill from my voice box as I attribute life to my well-thought thoughts
I consider circumstantial conditions and my imagination unknowingly decides to swing extreme leftist
My head swoons under pressure and my eyes try to focus beyond the approaching light
The striking smell of petrichor coming from inside my head stands outstanding
The realisation volunteers itself into view. I’m having a brainstorm
I scream at the unseen visions that await my partly closed eyes
As the shadow becomes a silhouette
I watch as he approaches; me being immobile at this point
He stares down, a tag is fixed on his left chest reads GRRM
I wonder what it could mean as I struggle to think through the analgised pain
Grim Reaper’s Resident Mortician
I get distracted long enough to not feel my soul depart
I only catch a glimpse of it disappearing into the dark
It doesn’t even turn to say goodbye
I read an old poem I wrote, today. And sometimes when I write poems about people, I show it to them so they read. This poem was about a dead person. You. How do I ever show you my best work? How would I? How couldn’t I? You made me start writing in the first place, and my first piece about you is something you can’t read. I can’t ask you to come back, I’m pretty sure it’s better up there. Yet I can’t but wish you never left. How fair is this?
I’ve always been the devil to you.
I never have been or have the hope of ever being right.
If you really claim to be Jesus so bad,
Why don’t you let me nail your wrist in your mother’s sight?
I saw your reflection in a pool of toilet vomit water. I caught myself putting on your clothes yesterday. Your mother keeps calling me her child. Your family insist you are me. Everybody thinks I’m going crazy saying we’re not the same. You know the truth. I know the truth. I killed you when I couldn’t bear to be taunted anymore, to be bullied and laughed at, and made fun of, and used as a tool for jest. When I finally lost hope in humanity. It wasn’t intentional. I just wanted to scare you off. My blade wasn’t even that sharp, yet somehow it pierced into your soul. Every single time I play video games, I remember you. You hated those. Why can everybody else not see through, see the truth. We’re different. You had breasts, tiny ones you hated and hated more every time the girls in your class laughed together and you were convinced they were mocking you. You had long brown hair and deep brown eyes and 7 freckles on your cheeks – yes you kept count. You were in love with your neighbour who went to the nearby college – you insisted it was more than a crush. Your teeth were white. You hated sports. Your brows were scanty. Your smile was beautiful even though you never knew. You were a whole lot of things, a whole lot of characters. Why can’t anybody see that we’re not the same? You died when my blunt black blade pierced your feeble white soul. Why can’t anybody see that we’re not the same?
In the sinister darkness of a moonless night, she stood.
She seemed perplexed. Searching for something I still haven’t understood
She strode. Sleekly, quietly, quickly. As though in pursuit of a shadow
She finally found what she sought. Death. He couldn’t run quick enough.