I can't miss you anymore

I can't miss you anymore, because I can't cry anymore. I can't look at your face everyday, and reminisce on what we had, because it hurts too much to miss you. It hurts to much to wonder whether you miss me too, but now I know you do, and somehow, that hurts even more.
I could never understand why you left me in the cold. I took the leap and you let me fall. I could never understand why you never reached out. I guess I need some closure. Or rather, 'needed' some closure, because now, I can't miss you anymore.

I can't miss you anymore, because your smile for her smile hurts my heart. So, I can't miss you anymore as a remedy to my heartache. I can't miss you anymore, because your jaw has become defined. You are no longer the boy I knew, but rather a man I don't know. So, I can't miss you anymore, because you no longer exist.

I can't miss you anymore because it's become too difficult to hold on. My finger tips ache from holding onto the ledge of the pane I should so long ago have let go of. Yet, I allowed myself to miss you for sometime. I forced myself to focus on the positives so that the pain of missing you didn't seem so intense, but it was loud. So, I can't miss you anymore, because I need to mute the sound.

I can't miss you anymore. I need relief. I can't miss you anymore, honey, I need to breathe. I can't miss you anymore, because you don't exist. I can't miss you anymore, because I'm losing my mind. I just can't miss you anymore, and maybe, at last, I'll be fine. 

A distant longing

To fit in, one must first belong. To fit in, does not mean to conform.. To fit in, means to be accepted as is. To fit in, is what we all long for.

To fit in, is to be surrounded by individuals who adore you and appreciate your company. To fit in, means to know who to call when the day seems unfruitful. To fit in, means to know with whom you stand when they day is grey.

To fit in, means to feel familiar in the unfamiliar. To fit in, means to voice opinions without fear of judgement, rejection or condemnation. To fit in, means to be yourself with all certainty.

To fit in, means smiles, laughs, tears. To fit in, means high, low, fears. To fit in, means together apart, one heart. To fit in, means nothing separating 5 hearts.

1 heart, my heart. Low. Fears. Tears. Uncertainty. Fearful of judgement. Judged. Opinions silenced; scared to be condemned, denied. Unfamiliar in my familiar. Alone in the dark. Sunny Saturdays in my blanket's shade. No appreciation, no adoration. A longing, a need. But not the usual, nor a conformist.

Belonging. A distant longing. 

Insomnia: One

Everybody needs to stop.
The hurts, the feels, the cries, the lies.
Human demise.
Sinking in ships that we built,
Ask Noah how to stay a float.
God can't be real,
Is he playing his role?
Randomly ranting because insomnia has me in it's grips.
Questioning,
Saying spells from these lips.
Thinking, thoughts.
Rolling, Cops.
But the edge of the cliff
Doesn't look too scary.
Lied to me.
I think I'm ready.
1 foot forward,
I can't step back.
But it's okay
Because I'm dying with no doubts.

The Day Has Come Where I Have Died

...Everybody thinks they're the only ones hurting. They say words thinking their the only ones hurting. Everybody thinks their the only ones hurting...until someone decides to end it. Until someone decides to die.

The cold dead, cupped by the warmth of the blood dripping from their wrists and puddling beneath the cold white tiled floor. The cold dead, symbolized by the white dress worn to pray for innocence to a God who doesn't give a shit. Perhaps it's something like a parent who kills off their offspring when they're born with a defect. Will the age come where we'll be aware of a fetus' psychological defects so we can kill it before it kills itself? Genetic screening is frowned upon by many societies and many individuals because we cannot fathom the idea of 'killing someone off' because they don't live up to what you want (perhaps they have down-syndrome, genetically carried diseases, etc) but would it not help the 'masses' to kill someone that will eventually kill themself?

Well, I killed the girl in my bed last night. She was lying there, with her eyes wide open because the horror movie playing out in her reality was too distressing and heartbreaking to allow her to shut her black eyes. I hovered over her, watching her mouth quiver and wells of tears build up in the sacs of her eyes. Her pride was holding her back, but when I stroked her shoulder, chills sent down her spine, she let down the sluices and let the dam flow over. I held her, I felt her ache, I felt the black hole where her heart stood. Her life played out, recollections of hidden memories. Vases thrown to walls, "you bitch" yelled out, a little girl curled under her sheets. Tears. Head laying in a puddle of wet sheets. Guilt. Regret. Pain. The overwhelming pain of puncturing her skin. The comfort she felt. Momentarily forgetting the hurt..............................................................................................................................................................................................................

The bed was bleeding. Drip. Drip. Drip, it leaked off the duvet, counting the seconds. The light became brighter. The pain became distant. She smiled before she shut her eyes, savoring the moment. The first instance in which nothing else mattered. Her heart beat faded, her pulse grew slow and her black skin went pale.

I killed the girl in my bed. She's slept alone for the last night. I killed the girl in my bed last night, and the scars on my wrists will forever be a reminder of my glorious deed as I walk these paths identified by my soul. I killed myself in my bed last night, and the happiness is overwhelming. 

The Dark Deity

There were days when everything was either black or white. There was always a definite either or... But recently, my world of solid colours has turned into a blend of uncertainty with shades and emotions that I cannot decipher...

Black skies,
Of red tears, blue blood, white lies.
Dripping from her lips.
Bubbling up from sunken ships.
A place darker than the tunnels and caves
Carved by her inner demon to escape
the burning light.
Flames torched from bible pages ignite..
Holy water purified of the purity
What profanity.
Lost virginity.
A body numb and paralyzed,
An aerial view through blind eyes.
Watch earth's god rise.
Heaven's demise.
Lucifer say a prayer,
Lasting debt, forever the payer.


I can never tell how I feel. How do I fucking feel? Is this the dark invading my soul? Day by day I say a prayer. "God, pull me out of the deep end?" But sometimes the effort becomes heavy on my shoulders. "Oh, lucifer, carry me back to the dark side..." ...and he delivers me to my prayer. He asks me to give myself to him, and he'll never set me free. Where do i go? The dark calls to me, and the light provides no shelter from the heat. Grey areas of tears and pain, moments of pain and bliss. Cigarettes and parties. Boys and lace panties. No love. Just a drift through and through.
Pierce through my skin so I know it's real. Let me feel myself within myself. Let me know it's real. Oh,, let me sell it for the momentary bliss. Hell cannot be worse than this. Let me eat my own flesh. Hell cannot be worse than this.


I am an angel pure. Oh God, forgive my sin? Golden shrines of saints and seekers. Why aren't I a believer? Deliver me from evil, in the name of the Father, Son and Spirit. Where are you? Trinity, Deity, can you hear me? I can feel you. I can't feel you. I can't feel you.

My reality is tainted. Let me bleed. Let me weep. Let me sleep in peace. Wake me up. Give me love. Give me peace. Where's my God? Ecstasy. Warm embrace? Heaven, hath though forsaken me? This can't be real. Hell is better than this.

Oh Deity.

Find my desolate soul

Why does it take an experience of the utmost desolation to make a community of beings realize the wrong doing in their actions? How does such an experience pull the forces of faith into one, such that they are intertwined to create a web linked family of the most capricious caliber?

Not to long ago, on a crisp Friday evening, I saw his dark eyes as the moon lit the sky to a velvet dye. I quickly reached over, wrapping my arms around him.. Giving him the most zealous hug my scrawny body could produce. Little did I know that this was going to be my goodbye; our last 'he-rah'! ... I wonder what I would've done differently, or said differently had I known that was our final encounter..
Perhaps I might have uttered a "thank you" under my breathe, for the mounds of support he had once shown me or for the strength he had forced me to pursue...

My mind plays back to the year 2009, entering high school as a freshman. There was this boy, who took lead from the pack, and made it his end game to mock and rag at every fiber that my being comprised of. Often a day, I would come home and lock myself away, allowing my weakness to protrude and roam freely in the confines of my own insecurity.
...The year progressed and the agony became unbearable. An unhappy child makes for unhappy parents, and as the tale goes, "the bullied moves away from the bully"... I had found a haven of safe, distant bliss from the abyss of my childhood odium.

It was not too many years later that the new found, self secure vixen in me, decided to wrap her claws around the neck of her childhood nemesis.
...but to my surprise, the situation had changed. Approaching the situation, guns a blazing, my vixen was soon put to bed in the surety of the emergence of a new man... Her bully had become her pillar.

"Running away from problems is what breaks you, and in life, you need a foundation that will make you and build you up to stand as your own pillars," he had said. An ancient traditional tales tells of how only the purest of souls can pick up on the strengths and weaknesses of the human being. The tale spoke of babies to be the angels to our souls. Yet, somehow, this manifestation of a wayward soul had found it's path into the grips of this once grum slum who had made me consider the unimportance of my life, time and time again. Is it possible that this same being could now be laying the foundation of what would allow my '7 pillars of strength' to stand stably on their own? Oh, but it seemed too unreal to me... There must be a God.

On this here day, September 10th 2012, I sit and shed more than just a tear for the moment of meeting, the moment of knowing, and the moment of parting... I shed a tear for the moment that was, and the moment that will be..
I shed a tear to my friend.. a mecca of brilliance... a pillar of strength... & a reformed grum slum.

MWASHE MBWAE.

Amidst my tears I cry this song...

Amidst my tears I cry this song,

Words I’ve meant to say all along.
Treasures of a life, hidden within a chest,
A heart beating pulse to give more than it's best. 

Amidst my tears I cry this song, 

A story of friendship playing out for long. 

In laughter I hear his voice to me calling, 

That by and by day, it'll be better by morning. 

Amidst my tears I cry this song, 

The loss of a life was never so wrong.

But entrust my faith in thine God I shall, 

And pray to bid my friend a fair well... 

Finding the best in my worst expectation

I expected this school year to start differently... Can you blame me for expecting more drama? I was scared that this black hole would suck me back into the state of depression I once curled under or that the fondness I witnessed between friends that were once mine would hurt me and bring those salty swells of tears back to my eyes. I expected the worst...

Yet, somehow, I had given myself the time to grow and change without even realizing it; because only in that moment, the moment where I witnessed the source of all my pain and despair, only then did I realize that I have dried into a thick pillar of cement who cannot be burdened by the agendas of others who only wish to see me fall. No, I am no longer burdened with anger, hate or jealousy because these emotions never helped me... Instead of adding value to my life, they made me, and my sense of self, depreciate into a worthless feeling, slither of a girl..
...But no more...
I'm not going to sit here and preach 'girl power' or speak of the evils of the 'jealousy monster'.. No. All I'm going to say is that when you make the conscious choice to leave behind some of your baggage, your shoulders feel lighter, and instead of pulling yourself brutally over the cracks and nooks of a heated tar road, you can walk with your shoulders held high and you get to see the brighter shades of blue and green that stream through the sky; and you can smell the fresh aroma of the freshly cut foliage.

When I decided to pick myself off the ground, I started living for me and walking down my own path with my own two feet. No longer did I let people step on my back and hold me back while I furiously tried to pull myself to my next destination, only to be trampled on by the being who can only pick themselves up solely to hide their emotions. Now that I can see these heights, I can see the faces smile UP at me instead of DOWN on me, and I can see the company I have been avoiding.. Now that I have picked myself up I have found the company that I needed. I have found that person who took my face into his grasp and shook me a smile instead of analyzing the carvings of my bone structure.

I expected this school year to start differently... Can you blame me for expecting more drama? I was scared that this black hole would suck me back into the state of depression I once curled under or that the fondness I witnessed between friends that were once mine would hurt me and bring those salty swells of tears back to my eyes. I expected the worst... and in the worst of expectations, I found perfection... I found my bliss.... I found my joy.. and I found it in the face of the most unlikely candidate. Yet, I could not be more grateful that he found me, took my face in his grasp and shook me a smile.

Sometimes I can feel him here

....It was a trans-formative summer. I was experiencing the sunny summer glow of a German town while my troubles, worries and family were tucked under thick blankets in Africa's dry winter. Some days it would rain, and I'd imagine the smell of rain back home, or the patter on the ceiling as I sat in my room, watching series' to no end. Yet, I was here, miles from home. Sleeping on a white couch in a little town tucked right at the border to Denmark from Germany.

I never carried any kind of suave. I was just a black girl who tied her hair up, wore skirts, jeans and cardigans, with a hint of mascara to brighten her dark almond shaped eyes. I was never spectacular. However, the 10 hour flight and 5 hour train rides summoned me into a sleep so intense, that I could dream about the past 16 years, had I been someone else; had I thought different, and acted differently. I may have turned out differently.

I like to be different. I like to change. I like to stand out. I like to be free to express myself, and through pain I could be everything I wanted to be. The day I went to "Anka Tattoo Studio" I didn't realise that the change in my dreams was happening. Everything was about to change with the ripping of a needle through my tongue. I held her hand tight; my friend, my little sister. The white girl with the blue eyes who I'd seen grow from a blonde, large eared brat to the support I never knew I needed. I watched her smile, and throw her head back as I sighed in pain. Day by day she'd bring me cups of soup and pudding, hold my hair back while I tried to oh-so gently brush my teeth. She answered with a voice most angelic, "He's my cousin" when I asked her about the dark haired bloke in the leather jacket I'd spotted in our kitchen.

The smell of cigarette smoke was never truly appealing to me, yet, I'd grown up with parents who'd smoke as often as a chimney in a European winter. Yet, the pheromones and smoke that made up his scent caught a whiff to my nose. I smiled. "Who are you?" he asked me. His hazel eyes piercing every ounce of my physical being.
"Uhm. Arlana. I'm your cousins friend"
"Oh. Nice to meet you"
He left the room. So suddenly, so swiftly. I silently turned my head as I tried to catch my breath and in that same moment, he turned his and smiled. A perfect smile, and a mouth filled with the shiniest of pearls and caressed by the softest copious pink lips. He stole my breath again, and left me gagging with the embrace of his saccharine aroma.

It came as no surprise that I saw him around the yard the next few days. "What're you doing?" he'd ask as I sat soaking up the sun; or "where are you going?" as I frantically paced towards the sea to drown my worries with the waves. However, no other moment can compare to the night we sat watching a film in the language of my ancestors' oppressors.
"Do you understand German?"  he asked me, not wavering to stare directly into my shy, frightful eyes.
"Yeah. I've been learning it since fifth grade," I replied, barely keeping hold of my breath.
"Can I sit here?"
"Sure," I uttered almost too quickly.
"Willst du mit mir kommen? Ich brauche etwas zu essen," he said, laughing at the grin on my face.
"Ja, ich bin auch hunger," I replied. Laughing to the sound of his laugh.
The walk over the stoney path was silent, and cold. My thick legs shook under the short piece of fabric barely covering my ass.
"You have nice legs."
"Uhm, thank you," I giggled. The compliment wasn't unfamiliar, but I never imagined that a man of so much suave would recognise my minor blessing.
I sat on the table with my legs crossed as I watched him bake a frozen pizza.
"Can you cook?" he asked me.
"I can make toast and eggs, if that counts for anything," I blushed.
"I can't make you my wife then."
The pause was awkward. I looked at him. My eyes must've given away that I was speechless.
"You were meant to laugh," he giggled.
"Oh. ha," I forced out, "I was laughing in my head."
He laughed at the statement, and I laughed at the look on his face. I'd never seen someone look so handsome while laughing so frantically.
I stared at his face while we ate. Assessing the contours of his bone structure, assessing the size of his hands and watching the gestures he made while he spoke. For a moment he stopped, and just looked at me. I looked away shyly, scared of what he might be thinking. He grinned and got up to leave.
We walked over the stoney path again. Saying nothing, only breathing. I was sure he could hear my heart thump against my chest. It was so loud..
We walked, and it thumped.....thumped....thumped....thumped........thumped...
Until we reached the front door, and I reached my arm out to open it. I closed my eyes as I felt the cold sensation grip my waist and spin me over, and gushed out a loud breath of air as my back thumped against the wall and his breathe was on my neck. My heart stopped and his face smiled. A grin so devious and mysterious that it scared me a little bit; but at the same time, his scent and his sinister darkness drew me closer until I could feel his soft lips against mine and taste the sweet, cigarette mixed sap of his being. I felt warm and the cold was suddenly non-existent, and the contours of his body laid so perfectly against mine. I turned my head, and I laughed. He laughed. The cold came back, and my heart beat frantically.
"I like you," he whispered.
"I like you too," I smiled.

Sometimes, in my sleep. I feel that moment wrapping itself around me. The feel of the breeze that hit my skin that night, and his cold hands holding onto my hips. I can feel the hard wall pounding against my back, and the smell of cigarettes smoke flowing off his being.
Sometimes I can feel him here, and I can smell him here, yet more than just a few miles and a few oceans hold us apart. But, sometimes, I can feel him here.

Contemplating love

Silently contemplating,
While my mind is meditating
About a time where I could change it,
Like a caterpillar meta-morphing,
Where the tears were merely raindrops
From clouds of mixed emotions.
And love was just a letter,
Remnants of the alphabet.
So while I'm silently contemplating,
Our minds can keep meditating.
And remember that you once told me, you loved me.
You once told me you loved me.