Tag Archives: self discovery

Pilfered

Worms have invaded my mind
Nothing left between my ears
Just here tryna love this hollow husk
But love is evasive
I’ll try living instead
pilfered

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Nothing Underneath

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
Blood-soaked sand
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

(Breath)

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

Slaves of Self

profile pic

I’m still finding myself
Discovering what exists
missing what’s gone
To know is to be bare
To scrutiny
fingers gliding over my body
My skin shivers
An enemy traversing
Isn’t it heartbreaking
Losing trust in self
Gather what you scattered
It’s self-destruction
And indulgent spirit
And the cycle continues
Indulge, regret
regret, self-loathe
When desires enslave you
A puppet
remote-controlled by rage
What you stand for tumbles
When ego upsurges

Nakedness Sn1

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?

Work In Progress

I’m the one whose presence is annotated by perpetual absence of silence, call me siren
I’m you when your own heartbeat defies every step you take on the career ladder,
I’m the cancer that ate your mother’s breast when I knew she had twelve kids to be fed,
I’m the conniving spirits that duped your addicted father that rehab is for those trying to quit
I’m the hunger that drove you insane peddling your virtues for a plate of crumbs,
I’m the light skin black sheep of the family whose identity has been lost, everyday learning all that I am; all that makes my stomach churn with rage when I see in others.
I’m a hollow casket; my own corpse believes I stink
I am a lost shepherd sought after by sheep
I barely know me
I need revelation, from he who created me
The things I swore I couldn’t do have become a part of me
The things I hate doing
Things that fill me to the brim with self-loathe
Things hidden beneath my teeth and clothes

Sometimes I think my very existence is a mistake
My shoulders are burdened by heavy bundles of blame
For a past that I had no control over
Whoever sowed my seeds maliciously laced them with shame

I am sandwiched between two extremes;
Nobody understands me, neither do I
What am I worth?
I am the color of disappointment,
A definition of failure,
The barren branch of a vine that is chopped and burnt

The path to righteousness bruised my shoulders
Vanity didn’t find a place me
Love chose butterflies, fled from the dull me
Behind me trail 99 problems
No one in sight to help me solve them
And I am addicted to things am ashamed to pen…

What do I stand for?
For what purpose was I created?
Am I the only one asking these questions?

I am a faulty gun in the hands of a novice hunter cornered by a vicious prey
I am prey to alarm chimes reminding me every morning that I’m too small for my age yet too old for my dreams
I am the mess the society created but felt too good to clean,
I am the last crunch of a midnight snack that the throat moistens to swallow but the tongue still wants it back.
I am the insatiable bits of lust that blinded love. That craving for attention that sparked #mydressmychoice tension that lured your sister in her sweet sixteen to dress in micro-mini to call for catcalls without seeing sins in this, wallowing in the oblivion that ladies who command catcalls reduce themselves to specimens on which men practice their dominance.
I am a vestige of all the man I was meant to be, for when all is said and done the dilapidated apartments of my ribcage sinks at the weight of my failures, the stench of my wounded ego whisked my ambitions out of my system unto your doorstep as realities, so don’t brag to me about being on top of your world, man that’s my dream you’re living.
I am the last words of a slain poet, chocking on the metaphors as the last strike of destiny left my face spanked in wisps of crimson.
I’m the lost Angel knocking on Satan’s door, with premeditated good intentions soiled by your wicked expectations. The mustard seed of my existence strives to thrive, to give you million shades of love but you want to get me chained and spank me with lashes. Damn it! My creator fills my needs with million shades of grace so you can keep your filthy shades of Grey for yourself.
I’m the eye that finds you whenever you’re lost in thoughts, the gentleness in a beast that enticed the beauty, the flickers of nostalgia for times yet to come, the allure of a raspy voice that cajoled her to loosen up just 5 mins after meeting him.

I’m the history of mysteries that made you a best fit, a victim of your victories, the crooked stick that straightened your path to political stardom, the rag on the foot of your throne, the misfit that you dish thousands to have his head on plate, the ground is yet to drink the all blood of my lot you slaughtered to get where you’re. Success comes with a price tag but why are we the ones to pay for yours? Because we don’t have lives, because we’re shackled in poverty, because our lives don’t matter. listen, did you hear that. that’s the voice of my maker reminding you that this being you despise, this being you hate religiously, this being you’ve reduced to a metric to gauge your political bearing, this being you want dead because he couldn’t conform to your ideologies is still a work in progress.