these stereotypes, am already sad of my consideration- disqualification- you don’t fit into the character- you choose- you want to be,
My starboard side is broken- don’t know where am heading- insecure enough to drown myself-
How many like for the next selfie- I call out the differences over the border disputes-
And am on repeat, a single song- and I dance-off to the weird noises-voices, inside my head-
Clap boy to the rhythm- to the self you see in the mirror without a vocal fold to shout- concern- bedtime stories that
I have never heard are in my dreams, These are my figments of memories these days,
The unconventional side wakes in me- like a sick boy- stands firm on his libs- open-
Make a call and remain connected- the utter darkness you see, when the windows are open- I can’t
Handle your sense of entitlement- I’m spacing out, isolating from my life’s worth-
I ask you for admiration- no criticism- pull me up- stop telling me am fine-
Or take it easy-peasy, I ain’t no mistake, under these differences -I’m still breathing and prepared with
Strategies under the same roof- narcissism-
A disorder inflated by itself, just mingle with these different dispositions- do you like them-
they are my religion- an epitome of character assassinators- iron fist smashing the walls, headlamps they keep flashing- in a loop, This is not me-
I’m an obsession, don’t pucker your face, continue- kill them all- one after the other- a standing ovation to one who claims to burn my memoir,
All these figments, just break them, and take a pause-
drift- travelling back to my memory archive, quiet room stacked up disks of electromagnetic tapes- fidgeting vigorously in shattered pieces- crushing me to my knees, it ain’t pretty-
I know it ain’t pretty anymore, these days of total blindness, I know I have to take it forward-
Am in love with this cliff side beach and these super dried and cracked-up concrete cells, which overlooks the sky and sea over the tree top and I know it’s green and I love the grey in between, the chilling wind and sunny January.
am happy after all these figments of perplexed reminiscence.
these are my faded floaty fragmented feelings for those fine fascinating fetish fantasies.
anxiety, swinging swings inside,
sliding the slides, and rooms bit darker now,
walls painted black, my lamp shades broken,
dimmer are my days, light never falls,
we in the faded stories and I’ll never learn how to swim now.
take time to remember my name, you spoke and my tongue
twist like fluid, drooling, melting candles and on the other side of the sea
on top of the cliff, the lighthouse keeps flashing, waving back at the sailors,
and I stood there in the dark, alone in this island, staring at the light,
the rays did give me some hope, an eternal hope, a never-ending thirst to be human.
love people and live like the rest, be like others and am not,
strangers stare and I feel isolated in a big dark space,
why? I ask myself with a swinging mood, agonizingly bedazzled voice of my face,
trying to contempt the condemn the fact of my being is fake,
you don’t owe to tell me what I am and am not.
be sane, he said.