My muse doesn’t speak to me anymore…

Is it something I said? Did I offend you in anyway? Why don’t you reach out to me anymore?

Did I mischaracterise you? Did I put too much out there about my perception of us…did I offend you? Did I expose us and the intricacies of our intimacy and you saw that as betrayal?

Your silence spills onto my pages, the words so loud it’s deafening;

Don’t be too sensitive, I didn’t come here to cause any kind of trouble; I just want you to speak to me like you did before; drive me crazy with your ranting and whining so much so that I can’t take it anymore and seek solace in others;

Why can’t we go back to how things used to be? When I was the victim and you were my villain for in that, I had no one to blame but myself?

Like I said, I get this is the 21st century but don’t be so gadamned sensitive. I don’t remember you like that. Whenever you are willing to work this out, you know where to find me.

#Heavyonthewritersblock.

Jo,

Jo

Dear sweet, foolish Jo,

What has become of you? You say you love yourself yet you can’t help but galavant the streets with him;

Is it the way he disrespects you that turns you on, makes you spread your legs faster than you could ever spell your name?

What is it about the catcalls that makes you soak all the way to your shoes Jo? Not only from him but from his homeboys who are all too aware of your tongue action; does it make you feel sexy jo? Does it empower you? Make you feel like a woman?

The way he lays his hands on you to bless you with the most artistic black eye ever seen, gets down on his knees to please you to make you forget the busted lip he gave you yesterday just before kissed you on the same spot with the same lips he gave to carol;

Is it the way he dismisses you that gets you going? I bet it’s the way he redirects his anger to you because he knows you love him too much to check him is what keeps you sound asleep at night, a chance your baby never got because he wasn’t ready to step up.

Why are you so adamant on betraying yourself?

Why can’t you bring yourself to genuinely love He that sees you for everything that you are, all the flaws you posses, all the bones in your closet, all your broken pieces ;

Yet chooses you over and over because he refuses to believe that all you will ever be is seconds to he who doesn’t even deserve a first? Who sees you as more than a one off for someone who only sees you as a means to get off; who sees you as a work of art he marvels at in every stage of his life;

He who sees the strength you impart on the ground you walk upon, all the love not even you know you are capable of ; all the goodness buried deep inside you just ready to burst forth? Who carries you with the dignity and respect you are too afraid to bestow upon yourself;

Who not only sees a future with you, not only sees you as the mother of his legacy, who not only envisions to love you for the reminder of his eternity and who will love you in his next life because he realises this one just isn’t enough; but also knows your worth and supports you in the very dreams the one who has your heart is so keen on crushing? Jo! Wake up!

Why Jo? Why can’t you love yourself enough to realise you deserve so much more than the scraps you are pining for?

Be good to yourself for a change, Jo.

Me

…”how can I explain it to you, Chem? How can I make you understand?”…

And as usual, in his metaphoric way, he went on.

“It’s like I’m in a crowd, a crowd of people dressed the same way and I am the only one looking ridiculous. Looking odd and stand out in the most weird outfit. I look around and no one seems to see me, no one seems to hear me. I quickly realise that I am alone and I start to wonder what is going on, wonder and confusion swirling in the pool of my mind when I turn over and see you in the distance, dressed in the same ridiculous outfit as I and you see me too at the exact same time. It’s as though you were also looking around.”

” Almost immediately, we burst into fits of laughter and we just keep laughing and laughing and laughing and laughing….”

~the moment I realised.

The boy in the darkness.

For the longest time, I’ve scathed and crawled and writhed and scratched, trying to find the answers. I seek them out so vehemently to no avail in other places , for I know where they lie and I would rather die than tread close;

For the longest, longest time, I’ve asked myself the same questions, over and over again until they became part of my comprehension, part of my soul and now, a part of me;

Why, why were you so hell bent on hurting me? I’d assume being a part of you, that you would have some place in your heart for me; now I see all that was wishful thinking because as I grow older, I see myself in bits of you that you hate about you;

Like a secret on the day I was conceived is the secret I remained to be. Were you not proud of the deeds you went forth and did? Of Laying down next to her and telling her all the sweet nothings you knew you were never going to accomplish?

How do you find it in your being to make more like you? You sire an entire army of broken birds and expect them to fly? When the little boy inside you screams to be heard but you kill him slowly and slowly everyday by killing me, how do you even survive?

How did this demon claw its way into your heart and drive you to almost wipe me out with a single mug, upon me bringing you to see the error of your ways?; Does it not move you when you see tears in my eyes because of your misdeeds?

Or the time you were there and the next you were not? How can you kiss me goodnight and the next morning you were gone? Gone for all your replacements there after to come and abuse her and fill me with empty promises, just like you did;

And when you choose the bottle over me; the money over me; the world over me; how do they do for you now when you lay so close to the the edge of the plank? When death becomes you, will you hold the world and kiss it, leave all the best parts of you with the bottle? Will it hold your name and keep the candle of your life burning?

To say the least, i’d prefer being in the above three, at least you were there or you weren’t. But how can you be there and not all at once? How can I see you every single waking moment and not hear a single, ‘I love you’ not even for just a moment? How can you be so stoic to the very human you are supposed to nurture?

And when your depraved mind sees me beyond the threshold of your child, what do you see in yourself then? Huh? Why do you touch me in ways that make my skin crawl to the gutter? Why do seek me in ways that make me want to kill that part of you before it becomes part of me?

All these questions, corroding in my mind, all will go to rot, for there is no way I will tread close with them for the fear of what you will do, of what you are capable of becoming beyond what you already are;

Can’t say I hate you, because to say that will be hating myself. Instead i will heal. I will heal for the both of us. I will heal so that you get a semblance of the chance you never got, the chance to know what you could have been had you choose to love me instead of sleeping with your demons;

I will change the narrative so that the coming will not dance to the same indignity; So that the coming will regain some fragments of your dignity; I will become the very bits of yourself you loved and grow into my own person with everything that I am to become;

I only pray your soul receives amnesty before your clock ticks its time. For you to acknowledge that which keeps your darkness at the fore front of your timely existence;

For now, say hello to the boy in the darkness for me; remind him that a single light burns for him, if he dares to fight for his life.

I always get a common question on my birthday; ‘how does it feel to be a year older?’ :Ohh, you’ve added plus one to your name, do you feel older, wiser?’

I try be as cordial as I can when I use so many meaningless words to say no. No, because I feel the exact same way I felt in the first, second and third, after the day of my birth.

The only difference is that I can drink a shit ton of wine if I did so please in front of my somewhat conservative mother without squirming beneath the cacoon of her slight discomfort.

There’s no change. Not for you, not for me. Forgive me for being so curt but you should know. You must know.

Like many things on this earth the mind formulates to keep us sane, the idea of transformation on a new year, of a love shown to greater physical lengths on valentines, to faith renewed on easter, to growing older and wiser on your birthdays, to hope, hope for a child born that will return to save us all from our own sins caused by own decisions;

All these, these are just landmarks to show others and ourselves how much we have grown to avoid the inevitable truth, that we can’t simply live without showing for it;

To avoid how immiscible our existence is, the mind decides that it wants itself protected from the very thing our souls, left to its own accord will embrace;

It wants protection so that life continues, procreation and development are nothing short of our minds desires while the soul, on the other court, wants freedom and it will be damned if something so intangible should get in its way.

Get in line and see, see how everything can easily be taken from you. Everything and everyone. Do not shun your eyes to it for you will miss the sun. You will miss the dance. You will miss the kiss, you will miss the big bucks, you will miss everything that makes your life have substance, to you;

I am grateful. Very grateful on this day of commemoration. Everything has remained the same but has evolved so much for the people around me. My mothers love, my friends careers and own personal growths, my brothers sense of manhood and my family as a whole continues growing more and more in union and love that I found in existence and for me, an innate sense of responsibility over my life. These, to me are what I have to show for.

So, I haven’t gotten wiser or smarter or more beautiful or more ugly or richer or poorer. Just older and more grateful that I lived to see another one.

He always knew you would be the same; all he had to do was lay the script out on the table and watch you play yourself right into the palm of his hand like clock work; it was there in broad daylight but you couldn’t see;

You were too busy loving the reflection that stared back at you whenever you two stood naked in front of a mirror to see; who could blame you though? After all, you were nothing short of a visual master piece;

The idea of being so perfect for him blinded you from the only truth that couldn’t be denied, even by you; the only mistake you ever made is to think you’d be different;

He sank into fear knowing that eventually, you would see him for the broken bird he was; a failure in his own right with nothing to show for the twenty something years he managed to survive his own whip lashes, with absolutely nothing to show for it;

I still remember when I first realised how far gone you were; you cooked. Not only that, you baked chocolate cup cakes and got him his favourite weed cookies. These were privileges only your demons knew.

I still remember the day I realised that you were gone;

You wore the expensive perfume you only wear to remind yourself of the pain the one that got it for you caused; because without it, your whole script unravels;

Now you know better Caro. Do better.

Let him find his way to be better.

Behind the unseen

Her screams are ignored, every single waking moment ; every single hour of the night, by all those present;

Her life is made up of white padded walls and floors, just to ensure she won’t scratch through the floor;

Her long, long wild curls are a symbol of her danger and power they and she a like know she had;

Encased in the specially made straitjacket, they deem her tame; for they are oblivious to one of her important strengths; the ability to feign weakness;

But behind the mane, behind the bodice, behind the madness that manifests in her eyes so dominantly;

Behind the demons that take over, putting her in that long white dress and pronouncing her insane to all those who care to listen, see and condemn;

There is a girl;

A girl who once loved the taste of ice cream and enjoyed running through the yellow meadow with her barefeet;

A girl who enjoyed cruising through the streets in her boyfriends black Cadillac, shown off with pride and kissed sloppily under the withering tree on her front porch, sinatra gracing the atmosphere, by he who was blessed to have her;

The life of a family that cherished her; enjoyed a bottle of sweet red with her best mates; a girl that savoured every taste, cherished every moment;

How all this came to be, how she lost her sanity, lost grip of her reality, only the demons that keep her up at night know;

All I see is a girl, ruined by society, damaged by reality.

~a blurred view from a broken bay window.

The catalyst for an eternity of never knowing what you could have been:

He whispered to her darkness and she embraced him; he said exactly what she wanted to hear;

She related to his brokeness; bonded him to the wounds they shared to keep him wrapped in the comfort of his own undoing;

He made love to her pain; With each stroke she reveled in her insanity, delving deeper and deeper into a world of no return, a one way ticket to hell;

She made sure he saw that there was no one who saw him like she did; could ever love him like she; could ever have the capacity to understand them like she;

He made sure she never saw anyone who could make her see that she was slowly dying, slowly losing grip in her own identity, her own sanity; he would be damned if anything were to leave him alone in his lostness;

They both didn’t want to be alone so they resolved to keep each other with their grief, for to heal, they have to let each other go;

: Trauma Bonding.

Create your website with WordPress.com
Get started