Mirror Mirror on the wall, what do you know that I don’t
Tell me, is there anything left in this soul
Is there any life left in this body
Is there honour in my ways?
Coz expectations and realities are worlds apart
And I’m kind of held back by fear that won’t depart
Held back by thoughts of a past
Regrets that leave no pass
Guilt that scotch my soul
I am a burnt offering that gods rejected
So vultures hang around
Waiting for the fire to die down
Before they rip my flesh to shreds
You see that is a part of me
A libation to the underworld
A cocktail for fresher’s party
My soul swoons with should haves
And should nots
But here souls like mine that figured life out but never lived dance to snores of death
Wishing, Wishing, wishing and praying to a god we never believed in
Just asking for one chance to live and truly live for 1 minute
But I’m no longer in control
No longer the dominant, entitled human
Emotions swish over logic I am a prisoner of self
Yes, that is a part of me
Tear it down to its roots
The spirit was weak so the body indulged
And then, guilt surmised
Please don’t gobble my eyes, I want to see you destroy this body;
A perfect home I couldn’t live in
Trust me I’ve died many deaths before I died
So don’t try to make it easy
I just want to enjoy the moment of loss
To lose it all isn’t the problem
Whom to lose it for is
To leave this body isn’t the problem
Whom to gift it to is
Insecurities plaguing humanity
My heart doesn’t trust its case
So how can I trust you with my body?
Mirror Mirror on the wall, what you know that I don’t?
Tell me about my nakedness, exhume this body I’ve always buried under the tombstones of my smiles and laughter
Tell me about brokenness dancing to drumbeats of fine-how-do-you-dos
See, broken guitar strings tell tales of sweet melodies before the tragedy
So sing me my melodies mirror.
Tell me about weather beaten paths to dilapidated dreams
Tales of despair evicting hope and destitution settling in
Mirror on the wall,
Is there more to this nakedness than a six-inch penis
On a bushy pubis that hangs, throbs and oscillates freely like a bob on a pendulum
It devours thick chicks
In six-inch Prada heels
I lure with cheap gifts
It is a gift
Ninjas won’t stop asking for my cheat sheet
The truth is, I’m gifted at many things
But I’m perfect at self-destruction
Sorry father, I’m not the perfect son you prayed for
But realize between expectations and realities is a graveyard
So many lives rot within
So many dreams lost unlived
So please, congratulate me for just being alive
I can never apologize for self-destruction
What destroys me thrills me
And my kind of freedom is weird
I indulge my addictions like Hindus do chants
I’m leaning to nail my coffin
Exposing the turmoil within
For the world to see
So mirror Mirror on the wall
Is my wreckage beyond salvage?
The mirror stares in silence
Afraid I’ll break it if it dared tell the truth
That there’s nothing underneath
I’m still finding myself
Discovering what exists
missing what’s gone
To know is to be bare
fingers gliding over my body
My skin shivers
An enemy traversing
Isn’t it heartbreaking
Losing trust in self
Gather what you scattered
And indulgent spirit
And the cycle continues
When desires enslave you
remote-controlled by rage
What you stand for tumbles
When ego upsurges
Even on nights that won’t depart
Yearnings that know no gratitude
When love leaves
A peace spring from the floors of my stomach
A gentleness that subdues the restlessness of my heart
Blames for the past, loathe of the present and caution for the future
I hear a small voice, far away
“You belong here”
“You were meant to be here”
“You’re not crippled”
“You’ll live to testify of the glory of submission”
“The wreckage behind is made anew”
“The fire within sparkles with assurance of greater possibilities”
“Your racing heart leaves an indelible track of health, no illness can ever erase that”.
“You have a past, yes, your presence troubles you, yes”
“He who made you, laid a fortress around your heart. It won’t stop beating till your empire is built to completion”
Deep breath in
close your eyes; see the beauty within
See the tranquility within
As within, so without.
Loneliness eats my confidence
Bite after bite
I reminisce the fulfilling times
I had with me
The journey in my house
Traversing beyond boundaries
Under carpets swept
And cobwebs removed from
Dark corners of my mind
I remember the empty stages
Just me Marley and me
Now the veil is torn
Normalcy is boring stiff
And loneliness won’t let me be!
Darkness is all I see
A fight from within
A person torn in two
Demand of flesh
Must I be the bait?
A conduit for deities
To fulfill their purposes
And manifest their divine power?
Why do I come back here?
Why do I break my promises?
With hefty prices to pay
What more shall I pay?
I wait for that day
When this war will be over
I’m tired of fighting a war
Where victor and villain
Is just but one person
I wait for that day,
When this war will be over
Am I no more than a battlefield?
Why do corpses rot in my belly?
Why is my face charred?
With burnt stumps of guilt
will this war ever be over?
My nakedness hangs, throbs and oscillates freely like a bob on a pendulum. My nakedness is oblivious of what you think about it. My nakedness hates darkness but every time it peeps on the outside it’s met by critical eyes and standards that limit how far it can ever stretch. My nakedness goads me in the insides scratching my body, soul and spirit for any viable points of exit. My nakedness is a slave to my constant pursuit of perfection.
My nakedness is no longer willing to remain in my shadow. So today I called my ‘I Threes” to debate on whether to unlock the chains and let my nakedness free as it used to be before I became mindful of what friends and foes will say if they could see the bit I’ve always kept in the shadows.
My body thinks being maskless reveals too much. It says your flaws are to be hidden, your scars are a painful reminder of all the hurt you’ve been through and these thoughts will drag you back into the mess you were before. Ooh look at your thighs, can’t you see the stretchmarks? You want them to see how bogus you were? You want to lose all this beauty just because your nakedness has been threatening you? Ahh don’t be stupid, strangle it, break it into pieces and let it rot in the pit of your stomach. It doesn’t deserve a chance?
I once had a clean slate, that was long before I knew how to write nor how to erase all the letters, the words, the phrases, the sentences and the stories that told of everything the slate wasn’t meant. I believed that the slate was supposed to be as clean as the creator had handed it over to me and only him could write signs on it for me to decipher unraveling the mysteries of life.
This slate was my life, given to me in entirety, a masterpiece of a master potter whose hands weaned the universe to perfection and what a delight is it to know that of all that he created and termed beautiful, I was the best.
I was made the best without a test
But before this could sink deeper into my spiritual being
The world scrapped this zest
Like naked does to vest
Leaving a Confused mind commanded by sirens of the flesh
Life has a way of munching your self-worth, turning your unlimited potential into nothingness, stripping every shred of hope, drying all your sprinkles of happiness leaving a lost soul tempest tossed in an ocean awash with predating tongues of the human variety.
These tongues will whip your self-confidence by forever spitting into your ears that you were born by coincidence, they’ll term your existence an accident crafted by the stubborn spirit of a bastard kid who refused to remain where debris of failed abortions ought to be.
Watch how they throttle your peace, making your nights a restless spree and they mock and laugh at you as the only human being who has not a single dream.
With limiting beliefs and customs they stagnate the flow of your spirits, the spirits that the create meant to roam freely into the invisible world of abundance marinating your life with love, gratitude, self-awareness and a sense of purpose that are essential recipes for happiness.
They’ve injected you with massive doses of self-loathe by muting the whispers of your beauty and making the silence of your flaws louder than sirens as they usher you into the system of make-up, the system of Botox, steroids, collagen and silicon but no make-up can ever make up for the flaws they’ve created in your character.
They’ve poisoned your heart with hate, contempt and cynicism and you wonder why you don’t see anything good in life, you wonder why suicidal thoughts creeps into your mind every other minute when the law of attraction knows that like attracts like and when hate is all you emit into the universe, it is all you’ll get from it.
I checked my slate that I once left clean and I found it filled with all the shit that will make you wish you never lived but what would you expect when you’ve left the doors to your thoughts open and given away the master pen given to you by the creator to write you own destiny?
I have cleaned this slate and now I’m getting ready for a war, I’m getting ready for a war to snatch my pen back, a war to snatch the key to my thoughts back, A war to get my life back.