Forget about pain and pleasure
Forget about right and wrong
I know no difference
I haven’t had both
It’s like destiny is one hell of a monstrous dictator
Who chains and tortures his subjects
Till they grow numb; to pain or pleasure or affection
I have been here too long
And though it can’t pass for a home
It is all I know
So I’ll write some more
Fastened on anchor and cast in the sea depths
About life in apathy and lungs lifting chests for that gulp of air
About deafness of friends
And blindness of family
About emptiness within
About lies I’ve told to prove I’m just alright
Today I’ll change the script
I’ll write my own
Riddled with bitter truths
For he who needs direction
Must tell of his true destination
I’m broken, Lord, fix me
I’m lost, please find me
I’m worthless, create me anew
I’m lonely, be a friend
The biggest blunder in life is to look for open doors with a closed mind
I’m not okay, but it’s all fine. I’m not okay but don’t tell me I’ll be fine.
I am broken, and I’m not asking you to mend me, just to help me find the part of me I lost. You’re the candle to illuminate my darkest hours.
Even a crooked stick can draw straight lines; it all depends on the hand that holds it.
Fireflies trek my mind no more, the poison within killed the antidote now my mind is a mouldy can of dead worms.
But this stench is all I know. This darkness is all I am.
You say depression is a creation of losers who’ll blame everything but themselves for their weaknesses.
You say depression a loser’s mind-set.
But you can’t judge a man until you’ve walked a mile in his moccasins.
Don’t tell me the cloud will be up for a while; you know nothing about missing the sun even when it shines.
Shoulders drooped in humiliation,
Tears streaked visage,
Backs bent with guilt,
Eyes frozen with fear,
You know nothing about the life I live
The battles I fight
The haunting past
A future I dread
You know nothing about the breathes that choke
So bask in the comfort of your privileges
And leave me alone
Yes, I said leave me alone
I’ve found home in this darkness
Your life is like a bank account; if you deposit EXCUSES, you’ll withdraw REGRETS
If they shun you for speaking the Truth, don’t fret; truth isn’t palatable, don’t expect them to stomach it.
There comes a day when the oppressor won’t meet the cost of oppression; unfortunately, it’ll be too late, the oppressed won’t adapt to new freedom
Hi, I’m Dorcas, I had lost my beauty to spare tyres, but only 2 months in this weight loss program, I lost 50 kilos, and I’ve got my beach body back!
Hi, I’m Titus and used to have a lot of belly fat that my doctor said was the sole cause of my erectile dysfunctions but only 2 months in this weight loss program, I lost 30 kilos and I can now hit that thing!
These are the lies they have used to mint billions and leave behind broken people in pursuit of illusionary beauty.
Beauty is a multifaceted phenomenon that can’t be defined by weight alone. In fact, the last time I checked beauty wasn’t synonymous to Slim!
You peg my worth on the sizes of my body parts and expect me to use it as collateral to buy acceptance.
The media is quick to give you statistics of people who die of obesity, but they can’t tell you how many of us die of self-hate because society didn’t accept as the way we are.
They’ll proudly present to you two people who lost weight massively but won’t tell you of the thousands of plus-sized people who’ve committed suicide because of the cyberbullies they paid.
They’ll lie to you that slim people are smarter but won’t tell you that the ‘fat’ kid that came last in class spent half the term at home for fear of being bullied!
Can’t you see, that this weight issue is a propaganda propagated by schemers who want you to make a contribution to the multi-billion weight loss industry they profit from!
And I hear curvy women complain of catcalls, we plus-sized women don’t get catcalled; we get insulted!
We have been called by degrading names; pumpum, momo, superdrum, drumset, I have lost my identity trying to find where I stopped being a human being.
The society with its unrealistic expectations of what a beautiful woman should be has changed me; I’m the master procrastinator. I have a hangman’s noose on my ceiling but every time I climbed the stool, the sun seemed beautiful, I have procrastinated suicide so many times that death itself is procrastinating taking me!
The truth is, I am not fat, I’m well built. I’m not fat, I’m just big in the right places.
I’m not fat; my personality is too big to be constricted in naked bone-frames. I’m not clumsy, I’m not lazy; I’m just too busy living my life to count calories!
The bible says that my body is the temple of God, you think I’m fat? No! I’ve just created more rooms for the angels!
I wasn’t made to impress
I won’t die of stress trying to fit in a cocktail dress, see, I’ve got enough meat for the wedding dress!
Don’t tell me I’m fat when God who owns the world hasn’t complained that I take more space than what he apportioned me.
I’m beautiful the way I am. Period. I don’t even know why I had to write this to prove that to you, when you spend your days on your knees praising how beautiful and wonderful God is! Don’t you know, He’s just like me!
My empty-bellied wallet stares at me
My eyes hello back with deeper hollowness
Phones are dead
My uncle says,
I pick my journal
235 dollars in receivables
But no one has a dime
A friend says
You’ll get through it
Faith without action?
Find me in the morgue!
What’s in the kitchen cabinet?
Floor, sugar, ketchup, and salt
Can’t I make tea?
No, no tea leaves!
But hunger still bites
I call someone
She says I’m a spendthrift!
So I boil water
And take a warm bath
I’m clean in my hunger
The place we used to hide in is no longer a secret, they have discovered it and known the secrets it kept. Our beautiful moments flew when adulterous wives brought their men in; the charcoal notes stood the test of time—to tell tales of our childhood indulgence.
I’m not ready, she said
You have to be, he replied
And that was final
She, left neck- deep into the mess
Chained to the ways of the land
The daughter of the lake
A man she has to take
20 yrs was the age difference
She complained she had another
But gods had decided
And their will she had to obey
She had been fed enough
It was time she got disposed
An item of trade she was
And a herd of cattle was the price
If he loves her or not?
If her heart melts for another?
If he’ll treat her well or not?
If he had a functional engine or not?
She had to be married
To the man who’d lost sight
But still had insatiable appetite for tender flesh
The three-legged man whose backbone needed straightening
He smiles, he whispers seduction but all she thinks;
“Old man you need a mouthwash”
She’ll get used
A herd of cattle wasn’t a small price to pay