Monthly Archives: January 2017

Attractive Oppression

You scratch along my breasts, hands like claws, demanding the replenishment of my chest

Squeeze my waist until it resembles no other dream than yours

Making my hips heavy with the birth of your woes and demons

My legs are heavy and in pain; you think they ground me to this Earth but all I feel are chains

My legs, they cry out

But all you see is my maternal gain

 

The sway of my hips that cause me harm, imbalances and misaligns me but bears your sins

How can you be so content when I writhe with agony?

Why do you not see the tragedy of this weight you forced upon me?

Trapping me and immobilising me of any sense of personal sovereignty

 

You act like you own me.

My depression in your eyes is a blessing.

You even continue cursing me, filling me with toxicity till my waist-beads struggle with the capacity

Eating your insanity for dessert and your disdain for starters

Chefs after my own heart.

Seeking to find it and bind it in layers of waste and fat.

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Hate Needs Lovers Too

As you sit there and I idly chatter, I can see the demons begin to prod your mind
Ever illusive when you question if they are truly there
Apart from when you’re unaware at the growing pit of darkness that subdues you in your bed
Any conscious effort to exorcise yourself lost as you are slowly misled, by those dark little fairies dancing around your head
You wish to cry out
Bed laden with sweat
You want air but now a goblin sits on your chest, resisting your urge to open the window and leave the bed
Your legs weak yet restless

No one can help you in this state
Shame has crowned your head, oh how you pray you was an ancient African King instead

The demons know your dreams, so they know the quickest path to your mental death

Still, I sit here with you and drink with you
For I too know what it’s like to have a daily death
But I must leave soon for your fiery disposition destroys me to my depths

I do not wish to reach hell yet.

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A shackled visionary

We grew up knowing familiarity and culture as pointers of our identity
But what happens when the orchestrators of our destinies frown upon our forms of survival in this foreign geography?

Will they imprison us and hold us mentally hostage?
How do we then free ourselves from this unfair slavery?
How do you rid yourself of an oppressor you love so dearly?
How does one prove their innocence without alluding to profanity?

It’s all a game of snakes and ladders
Taking one by surprise
You must break this charm
And stop thinking that your freedom will cause you harm
For the only thing that shall cease is your oppressors call of alarm
When you realise they do not bear arms.

And even so what is the point of a dictator when they cannot protect you from life’s woes
Threats so underhand and sinister, that would leave anyone in throes

An individual and their lived experience is their own true hero.

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Courage

Maybe it’s the onslaught of those who do not know me passing judgement
Or the proximity of any soul or being I cannot control

Should I blame it on intrinsic human nature and all its tales
Or would that be pathetic of me? Being emotionally weak and frail

Is it time to say I am just a coward and if all else fails I can reward myself for my numerous excuses, that were once too good enough to fail

Maybe if I am honest I can truly love, only time would tell

Tell me if I am a hopeless romantic, if I am just being heedless in understanding the truth of human nature
O r if my understanding is clear but my pain is powerful

Either way, no man is an island
Am I land to be conquered or do I have a choice as to my position in life

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Living Pains

A spine curved with the shame of unfulfilled life

A mind fogged by the poisonous neurons that refuse to function

Venom running through the veins

The perilous nature causing the body to become heavy laden.

 

Legs restless and convulsive

Matching a manic’s breathing pattern as they lay in an asylum

 

A vice to numb existence

Fight the time

A form of partial self-destructive prudence

 

Better than watching blood spill.

 

Spill down the edge of steel

Better to fight the urge to kill.

 

Yet, this pill doesn’t stop it.

Legs are less manic but the body feels it.

The drink cannot curb it

The body feels like it’s floating

Still, the mind cries out for release from its green house

 

So another pill, another drink and a substance to burn all pain.

 

The mind is now released into oblivion

 

So what are these claws dragging within my chest

Who is this demon that doesn not want the soul to rest?

 

It attempts to crawl out the chest and take the soul with it.

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Martyr Lover

Is it the diamonds between your legs that turn these men in lascivious beasts?
The cupid’s bow of your mouth giving them an insatiable feast – like manna from heaven they clamour but only at first.

Is it the freedom in your laughter that makes them seek your confinement? Your personalised Pandora’s box?

Or the care in your words and the softness of your bosom that reminds them of the mother they never had; the affection makes them run mad. They wish to martyr this mother.

Be careful beautiful sisters who are blessed with those glorious wreaths around your heads
There are men who wish to enslave you and have you make your bed among the stars

Do not let your purity of heart fool you.

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Pyromaniac

Oh to see my curtains in a state of upheaval

My wardrobes and vanity reduced to ashes

The very bed I sleep on burnt to the ground

 

The ecstasy in death

The excitement in the prospect of the fire

A bit of insanity. A bit of ire.

A whole moment of self-destructive behaviour

 

A bit of pathetic fallacy to quieten my mind…

For at least this destruction I can see.

Representative of my mind

My life

The ashes, obstacles I can see

 

It would be easy to start a fire I can see

Than have one made in my mind against my will and inconveniently.

 

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Jacobi’s Curse

Eerily missing the blood that your tears shed
Missing the darkness that held you by the throat and choked you
The dark smoke that gagged you

The dark master that gave you glimpses of a light
His punishment your vice
The disgrace a small pleasure in your life

Revealing all your demons in the comfort of this mental cage

Embracing and beautifully exploiting those painful experiences

Crawling up your legs on lonely nights
Giving you pleasure from his nihilistic annihilation, flagellation

You are truly sick for missing the bleak sensuality of your soul.

But your reality is one of pain and pessimism, existential positivity and plurality can no longer contain your soul that slips out of the bottle God supposedly held.

So you are consumed until there is nothing left of you.

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When friendships become toxic

I recently cut ties with my closest friend and I really just want to talk both about why I did it and about friendships that put a strain on your mental health and why it’s sometimes necessary to e…

Source: When friendships become toxic