…it occurred to me how entrancing it was relating to an idea that I once lived. An idea I once lived in, and continue to live through. 

It’s an association with some of the most intrinsically unique gestures that continue to pique at the very peak of my cerebral understanding.

A tune, that erupts a point of view I once shared about you, with you and now alone. There’s something about a perspective that just doesn’t give you the full picture of a moment.

…it occurred to me how vulnerability is worn and internalized when I exposed myself to the inconsistencies of your past and now the  memorable frequency of your soft beautiful voice. 

How could I exist within two lives when I only shared one side with you? How could I live and dream a reality that remains multifaceted and hidden by untapped into desires and confessions? How could I let go when my heart syncs into the tone that you embody to metastasize our bond? 

At the very core of where I’m coming from is my reason for moving on. At the end of my pain is this sound that guides me through your apology and my defiant, quiet weaknesses. 

At the very end of my silence, is my heart used as a door that you’ll never walk through. 

I love you.leitmotif


Catching Up 

We fear gaps. We fear that the in between will never be bridged with the now and the later. So impatient with time we overcompensate our efforts believing we are going nowhere fast. Catching up with the blind spots of our inactivity. Threatened by the imbalances of growths we hold. Conditioned that there’s only one way to be ergo no roots to stretch. Catching up with knowledge as if it’s not already contained inside you. Catching up with love as if you don’t already emanate it. The beauty lies in the realization that you can still improve. In the realization that your failures can be separated from your identity. A generation besotted with instancy for ephemeral gratification bury their sanctity early. We don’t believe that we can do it all so we do a little bit of nothing to achieve the bare minimum.

We burden ourselves with the falsehood of reality browbeaten down our conscience to make us feel insignificant. Small. Catching up with our greatness so we over-assert our importance and shortchange our competency with company that leech & latch onto our brilliance. Catching up with people who caught onto other people already. Catching up with discussions & ideas that already evolved & now we find ourselves a few good ideas behind schedule. Catching up with a currency that does not involve your existence but requires your identity to make sense of its context. Catching up with twenty years of your unconditional devotion but death has shown more permanency than your lingering presence.



this vision, this hope, this space that rests at the back of our mindsalways thought of, always sought for.this area that is out of reach & so we reach within ourselves and remember that we are empty, selfish and inadequatethis love that is away, this person that rests in soil you could never dig up to see themthe unknown that appears in our dreams, as if to say we greet the future while the present is unattended and pendingthis irony of a land that is so aloof, so unobtainable that we settle where we are used tothis hinterland that is a euphemism for uselessnessthis vision, this hope, this space that rests at the back of our minds… 


A generation 

Moving between oceans with unfounded seabeds and immeasurable depth. This space of so many genres of humans defined in a context that overlap into the pre’s & posts of eras. A generation whose identities are inspired not just by reality but by the confluence of culture and a social currency. A generation that sees the forest for the trees within their own individual setting & embrace the beauty of cohesion. Moving towards a future that is intensified by instant access to knowledge and intractable online connection. A generation that does not occupy just one space of radical input but is involved in multi-dimensional spaces which becomes an overture into communal anecdotes with different underlying narratives. Espousing the generational values but are at the same time critical of each generation and so are influenced diametrically not by one view but by a perspective of views. Playing card games while discussing neocolonial capitalism & drinking wine while creating a meme out of their undefined purposes for their futures. Or maybe not. When purpose is distorted but is also captured and interspersed across this mass hunger to aspire to be more. A generation imbibed in on & off activities which sometimes underpins the crux of their survival & livelihood. The timeline of healing, reconciliation & peace is scaled through what is effete and what can still wield an impact. Humor each other with banter derived from socio-political circumstances but know how acute matters remain, and so their pain is subsumed by a functional emotion for the sake of society and their sanity. A generation that is serious about social justice issues but is also serious about what filter to use on Snapchat. Or maybe not. A generation that activates & deactivates their fallacious opinions because it is trendy to speak your mind sometimes. Muffled by the intellectual interlocutor who engages you exhaustively but refuses to redress their own antiquated reasoning. A generation that bridges the FOMO gap between the baby boomers, the millennials & the centennials using technology and media as tools & sometimes as weapons, all depending on how it is administered. A generation that is wanting & is dispirited by how nothing truly leads to an end, just a different beginning. Or maybe not.”

I visualize a future that fast folds into the past. The sun setting beautifully & my eyes belied by what I hope to become and what my reality, my generation, cannot grant me. 

I’m still poor. 

In the far horizons of my existence, there where I contemplate my future and the vestiges of my obscure and incomplete past, I beg most of my questions. I confirm assumptions with illusions about my perception of the truth. I dig deep into my innermost insecurities and fears about my ineptitudes that render me poor. Dry. Wasted. Done.

And as I, sojourn, in the lounge of my chaotic setting, I ponder and brainstorm about my humanity and what aspects of it I will never love (again).

My soul is rusty and the vignettes of my life only reflect a portion of the shame I turned into celebratory moments. 

I invariably think about sacrificing myself to a version that is more accepting and accommodating than the self that continuously spews polemic undertones of my imperfect reality.

I’m still poor because my unwarranted proclivities still shackle me to a mentality that is self-enclosed. I am under-resourced in faculties of myself that inhibit me from embracing all the elements that could heal me.

My inability to show gratitude for the little comfort in my heart is my protest against inadequacy that is laced in guilt but is embraced as a milestone. 


Screenshot 2017-04-12 01.48.07


don’t let them have it. don’t let them feel comfortable enough to violate it, don’t let them find it & use it without your consent, don’t let them in until their intentions are clear. beyond these bodies exist energies, we all carry a currency that people often sought in them celfs. a currency that many may loathe, would attempt to contaminate & inter alia, mimic to their own extent. you’re an observer of the times, a polymath of wisdom of its own kind, a cosmopolitan of the worlds many are dying to be part of & experience. take care of this force that catapults you farther into your aspirations & goals. your prowess is sanctified. your magic is buttressed with your endless need to improve your celf. let them have your attention, your presence & maybe even your humor, but not your grandeur. it’s not only sheeps’ clothing wolves wear anymore, it’s: feign smiles, benign texts, cheap talk & distorted visions & versions of them celfs. understand that they will all be revulsed by your suaveness; because they them celfs crave that anecdote which affirms their existence. they crave that niche which postures their purpose. they want to feel whole, like you are. they will slander your glory. plan to crucify all that you hope to be. they will go as far as claiming that your unparalleled dedication to elevating your celf is an aberration. render you inept & inadequate as a mere projection of that substance they can’t dig far enough to find in them celfs. the reason they put on this veneer to try to steal you from your celf is because they’re tired of standing in front of a mirror that only shows them what they can’t compete with.img_6439

Intro to nothing 

Lately, my vacillation to write stemmed from the lack of temerity in myself

And more than that, the countenance of the topics I’m supposed to be writing about?

Forgive me but, this blog isn’t about internalizing the trends of the world and strewing quasi-consciousness for my avid readers and followers 

But my apologies also for viewing other causes as trends, I’m not here to gauge what impacts and affects peoples’ lives

I’ve just been buckling under what I should and could write about 

I should caution you that there’s no point in this post, not this one yet

How have you been though? I’m not asking the “I’ve eaten today, had  a normal productive day, chatted with friends & took a nap” type of how have you been

What I simply want to know is how you’ve been in your fullness? In your autonomy of being? In your art to create? In your existence to live? In your pain to move on?

Ever wondered how words were made? How every synonym doesn’t really connote an additional meaning but just a memory of the previous word you already assimilated?

Do you think that words can be original? I think words, like humans, are caricatures of the universe to mock

I think that we were placed on this earth beyond what we will ever comprehend. I believe our biology is not our destiny. I know that gender is a construct to impede us from fulfillment. I know evolution starts where beliefs are excoriated 

I also think I talk a lot…

Sometimes I look within and see my consciousness staring down from space at the blip and unimportant human species I am 

Have you ever paused and wondered why you stopped doing the things you love? And then living with this existential denialism which constantly prods you into a corner that entraps your dreams further?

When you die, and you meet your maker, ask this enamoured energy if they too ever had goals they never achieved? If the responsibility to create the universe had consumed all their time from concentrating on their personal aspirations?

Ask them, what other aspirations did they piggyback before the commission to design this planet was given to them?

Ask them, do we satisfy their expectations? Are they sated? 

Finally, send my salutations. Tell them, no energy is allowed to love thee so much that it allows billions of other energies to exist within its Mecca 

Traces of illusion

That empty vessel is only of  quintessential importance when you fill it up. Have you ever woken up feeling like the white elephant of your own life? Maybe there’s a substance within you that you’re too ashamed to even set free to the universe. Time isn’t money it’s your urgency to want to belong to a constructed society. The present is a constant repetition of what you perpetuate for your future. When you wake up every morning you’re just existing in the same illusions of yesterday , because time  is immeasurable yet you define your life through its cycle. You’ve died over a thousand times already but you’re only acknowledging what your conscious can understand. This conscious, it’s fascinating because it only reveals to us the depth which keeps us alive. If death was your mother would you still greet her every morning? Or hug her ? Or distance yourself from her in the evidence that all the memories of the persons she took away from you only brings you pain? Aren’t you exhausted from always putting yourself in someone else’s shoes? Aren’t you afraid of losing yourself while you search for meaning? Meaning…what is this term, I reckon a fallacy which eludes you all the time.if you were searching for meaning then your capacity would be inept from failure to recognize that you’re the finesse which impedes your grandeur.

Maybe one day you’ll realize that these worldly possessions only disconnect you from an iota which replicates and possibly spews the consciousness that created you.

Maybe one day you’ll realize that you exist because of you.


You keep me in your premise

Fences all around with my potential in sought of me on the outside

Why did you put me in here?

I’m supposed to be out there in the wilderness

You’ve made me succumb to this so called coerced protection of yours

You call it protection but it’s debasing 

I long to fondle the warm savannahs in my search for meals 

My tactical abilities are reduced to the little steps I take to eat your preservatives 

And what about my own creation? 

Will they ever experience the wilderness as I have? 

Your reality of the wild is a total blur on what my purpose is meant for to the universe 

I’m a mother, an entire generation, a continuation of my own legacy, but you don’t see that do you?

What of my brothers? And my sisters?

You call me an animal, with your human conscious, but your mind is just as fenced as my wrath and body

What’s going to happen next? 

Your science shouldn’t categorize my nature, my home. Leave it alone.

Be instinctive enough to know when I’m grieving

 You took away my role as a provider and now I’m a product of a manipulation of involuntary cossetedness 

Let me go

I want to experience an exodus again. Moving from nature to nature, teaching and growing and understanding 

I’m so hungry

…hungry to be alive.to die with my purpose.to exude power in my little social construct.to be unkept

My pride can’t rescue me from here…

My Pride embraces nature while I’m still in here… 

>inspired by I, Predator< 

Lonelier With You

Looking at you is hard at times

I’m not always  satiated with staring

Sometimes I want to know how fulfillment grooms a sense of surety

Because I don’t always have that with you

At times I also just look away to let the wind ease on its direction

At times, also, I long for your company but honestly,  I’d rather watch a cactus grow than bathe in the agonizing  reality that your presence renders nothing short of lonely

I’m with you but I’m also bewildered by the idea of being my own law and not ideally needing you

It’s sickening because my closure and comfort both don’t come from the same homes

I try to speak with you but what have words ever done to change inevitable desperation?

Even when I pretend to listen I still just choke on the last thought of your sullen expression

I don’t know anymore…

I’m sorely lonelier with you

My solitude is louder now that I am able to make sense of  our dying longingness for each other

And my only worry is how we’ll surpass this to possibly shatter the critique of what brought this up

Sometimes I see us just  understanding that love alone cannot free you from the complacency and routine we so often hide ourselves into 

When I do watch you

I force myself to capture the grace in your existence

At times we both just compensate for the sake of how far we’ve come

I’m not always illustrious about how I could make this better for us both

I don’t even see an aisle before any of us – or at least, my mind is not too far trenched into an impossible future

It’s unlike me to be bored with someone who shows me where I come from


I try…

I try to bring consciousness to this dilemma

I  guess the idea of being with you right now is almost few and far between – like the rarity of my pure unsolicited love

I’m dreading that loneliness is the solace I never believed would reappear in such a short span of time

Each moment with you is acted out in such a repeated finesse that I find it difficult to trace us back to how spontaneous our nature used to be

You are one of the people I owe all of my wasted moments of self to

It’s like the longer I wait for us to get anywhere, the farther I lose myself in this world

Will it ever make a slight difference with you?

Help me come to terms that this isn’t what we need anymore