Msichanamdogo

short view on life and such…

Some nights

Some nights…
You’re stuck on my frontal lobe..
Well thoughts of you
That’s most nights

Some nights…
All I need to be at ease
Is a word from you
That’s most nights

Some nights …
What I really yearn of you
Is a kiss and a cuddle
That’s most nights

Some nights …
All I really desire is to stare deep in your eyes
And get lost in China ..
That’s most nights

Some nights …
I really wish I’d sit across you
Share a meal..a conversation ..laughs
That’s almost every other night

Some nights…
I sit up relive our happiest memories
Most beautiful moments
That’s most nights

Some nights…
I can’t sleep unless
I’ve whispered a prayer for you
That’s every night

Some nights…
My heart reaches out to yours
In love..and prays for the warmth of yours to wash over it.
That’s this night.
Tonight.

Posted on the go…yup!

Silence and fear

Haven’t had such a quiet weekend …ever..and what’s quiet? Friday night..home alone…quiet..Saturday morning home alone..quiet…head back home after meeting estranged girlfriends …Saturday night home alone …more quiet..Sunday morning ritual KPLC blackout ..eerie silence

What is it about it that’s so scary though? . I can’t quite place it. Am I this averse to myself? Am i this uncomfortable with me?

There’s always been a need to.be with someone …in their company for the most part. I have always disliked being alone and I’ve never quite grasped why. 

The council of elders in my head doesn’t chatter any louder..and I’m not on suicide watch or anything ..so I’m no danger to myself. 

Maybe we need to disect this “alone” experience. 

You sit there..alone..maybe with your thoughts that you just can’t turn off..doesn’t matter how loud the music is played off your phone through the 2XL vacuum earphones you got gifted.

It gets so freaking quiet your heartbeat sounds like the toms in a  marching band..or like a Travis Barker solo… Ba dum..ba dum..twaaf! *pathetic impression*

My tummy noises echo and bounce off the walls..reminding me how alone I am simply because i hate cooking for one. 

Something about silence makes everything loud and I fear the loudness of my own voice.

Radio silence…

Enough rambling

Posted on the go…yup!

melancholia

ever so often, there comes a song that i un-ashamdely completely molest. lately it’s been vast extremes.. either a super silly song that has really nothing it’s saying – just words chained in a harmony that can pass with a rhyme and rhythm..

other times- most recent times.. .they’re songs that are pretty obscure.. cryptic..deep even..mostly shrouded in melancholia.

i have began to find that coldplay – wrist-slitting music pretty calming. i’m scared. should i be though? is it a phase..something that will pass or is it an evolution of my goût.

what i’m scared the most of is that it’s those shatteringly depressing songs that i listen to on full volume, eyes closed, flat on my back not even watching time fly by, that have a “soothing” effect. i smile. wryly but smile nonetheless.

it’s the only music i can write to. and writing is quickly becoming my release. i seriously don’t write specifically for anyone but me – and well.. a favorite reader that shall remain unnamed. unajijua.

“why does it have to be one or the other? happiness or sadness?” he asked. an utterly puzzled look splayed across face. i was too lost in china to answer right. i think i stuttered or took a goddam long while to answer.

“i don’t know”, said i the classic escapist. “i don’t know really”

right now , in this moment, i feel i do know. my emotions have never really had a grey area and i really don’t want to be apologetic about it. i guess it’s the way that i am wired. either i like something or not. either happy or sad. in love or not. destructive? tell me about it.

à ce moment, my happy melancholia and quiet soul (as i was told i am sporting lately, though i don’t know if that’s still the case) i embrace them. it’s where i’m at.

not really sure how i feel about it.

oh yeah the song that i am currently really just giving it to: Stay – Rihanna ft Mikky Ekko

Read it here and listen to it here

i’ll sing this someday. soon.

enough rambling…..

 

blood pump

Fuck my heart.  It’s fickle and wicked. It gives me up in situations I have decided to be cold…frozen.
Fuck my heart. It betrays what I want to feel. It throws me under the bus and lets me get trampled.
Fuck my heart man…nowadays it derives a sick sort of pleasure from sadness. A happy melancholia.  Fuck it.
Fuck my bloody heart making me think that things that were said in moments of lust and light-headedness were ever meant as true…Heck!! Why is it even thinking?
Fuck this blood pump…why can’t it do just that and leave everything else alone…no…It’s just got to go catching feelings…messing everything up.
Fuck it!
Who bloody wants it? I knew it! No one would want a two faced thing that’s supposed to do one thing and does another!

Why couldn’t it just be content with the nights we stayed up and cried to Sade Coldplay and Adele???  Just bloody heal and get over and done with it…no it had to be a heart.
Had to be a heart and hold on to all that’s awesome, and memorable…and not just that…but hope…
Actually hope that the heart it was bound to does the same…beats for it.
Bloody heart.
I swear if I could give it up to someone …wait…already did. Damn.

 

Image

Fistful of tears…

Cause I go insane 
Crazy sometimes 
Tryin you to keep you from losing your mind 
Open your eyes 
See what’s in front of your face 
Save me my fistful of tears 

~ Maxwell- Fistful of Tears~

Getting there

I have played out in my mind how i will reconcile facts that float about in my head and emotions that tug at my heart,and finally i have come to the conclusion that the head and the heart-though in the same body, will never be totally in tune with one another. 

Or maybe it’s just my case. I mean people look like they have it easy and they are just traipsing around town not a care in the world..me i float in nothingness. 

Where exactly am i going with this..i see you scratch your head.. i have always been one for mindless rambles and one too many a time i have put myself in comprising situations because of this. 

The title of the post reads “getting there” and indeed i am, but where is there? A place of complete and utter peace, where my head and heart are attuned? Does that place even exist? My “there” is not ideal in any sense of the word..i am not one to lie to myself. Well, i’m not now. I have damaged too much of myself holding on and finally.. i am letting go and letting the world know i am. 

I am letting go of love. 

The hopeless romantic in me is dying a slow and painful death. I realize now that all those Disney flicks and fairy tales did warp my sense about what love is. I always thought i will fall in love with this persona and off my feet be swept.. and rainbows and butterflies all the way.. reality check. That is not so. After falling in love God knows what number of times and saying.. “this is the one for me, my soul mate, the one i will grow old with and watch our children grow old with..” i call bullshit on love. Bullshit. 

So moral of the story: i am getting to a place of acceptance that i am  single again. The undying love i professed is one i betrayed. To some extent i feel that i am not one deserving of love anymore, or is it the other way around? 

It feels good to able to say it out loud.  

Here’s to getting there.. 

enough rambling……

Protected: Us Against the World.

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pathological mucker upper

get it?

maybe not

but it’s a disease..a cancer

forever a klutz

gimme anything and i shall break it

destroy it

smash it into smithereens

suck the life out of it

kill it

doesn’t matter to whom it belongs

even if it were my own

i’ll ruin it

so

please keep your heart from me.

Tropical Storm

It was raining. A raging storm brewed. The dark clouds emptied icy droplets of rain upon the ground that formed into little rivulets.   It was cold, windy and wet. The threat of thunder claps and flashes of lightning loomed.

She hated the rain. She hated the rain on her shoes, on her skirt. She loathed how cold and damp her nose would get in the rain. Oblivious to all her misery…the storm bellowed on. Thunder clapped now  and it shook her to the core. She stood there… in the shade of a building’s ledge to keep herself dry.…wondering where to go next and was puzzled at lack of clues.

The universe sent her an umbrella vendor! How thoughtful of the universe. She was ill prepared for the rain…despite it having rained severely the days before. This was really a bad habit she’d developed. Her lack of foresight had caught her off guard many a times before.   The joy of seeing the rain soaked umbrella vendor was unfathomable. The irony of it all made her chuckle but the sight of the bright orange umbrella made her beam with joy!

She got the umbrella, opened it up and just like that…she was dazed. The colors! It had beautiful tropical colors. See this umbrella, had a tropical beach silhouette all over it. It hypnotized her. For moments on end, that she did not notice pass by, she forgot about the storm, she forgot about the rain. The cold wind bit at her no longer and she felt all warm. She got lost on her tropical paradise. She took walks on the beach and dipped her toes in the ocean. She picked sea shells from the shore and stuffed the sandy little gems in her pockets…keepsakes…memoirs. She did all she could to remain here..in her now tropical storm. Meanwhile it rained on.

Unbeknownst to her, her lover was nearby. In that rain; that horrible storm.  He saw her under her umbrella, in her moment of light headedness. He reached for her. She turned her back. She did not hear him call, did not see him beckon. Her tropical umbrella covered her head to foot and she would have nothing else in that moment. Him, he was drenched! Soaked through and through in the rain. He shivered.

He called out and she heard him this time and said there wasn’t enough space for the both of them under her brolly. She lied. She wanted this joy for herself and would not give it up for no one. Not even for him. Her “Ms. Hyde” had shown her head. For a while he begged to have her let him in and she shut him out. Finally he took the reins. He grabbed the colorful shade out of her hands and showed her he knew the truth- knew that she had lied.

They stood there. In the storm…and lord was it getting worse!  It rained hard on them and felt as though the rain drops were hail stones. It poured on them and they lashed out on each other. She explained that the umbrella helped stand the storm while he was hurt at her lies. He was hurt. He pointed out to her that he had called and beckoned, signaled and tried to halt her. He had attempted to bring her head out of the clouds but her difficult self was..well difficult. Anger and rage made them both say things they shouldn’t have. Things that  can  not- should not  be repeated.

She justified and defended herself the whole time and never realized that he was hurt. He was hurt. She had given no hoots about it before…she was too busy on her magical tropical island. He had been stuck in the storm..figuring his way out. Trying to see how he could get both of them to dry land…but she had turned her back..denied him warmth, denied him peace.

The hypnotizing umbrella was now cast to the side. He said that all he could see on her face now was the reflection of its tropical colors and that image was imprinted on his subconscious. There for life.  She knew that he would never forget.   She longed for her umbrella but knew that in order to help her lover with the hurt…she had to let it go. However,in that moment, she knew that she had lost him.

Finally, she saw past her own nose and she tried to rescue her lover and she. Tried to work this miracle. It felt like trying to salvage the titanic moments after it hit the iceberg. Late, she was too late!  She tried to cover him with her hands..and he shooed them away, tried using her jacket but it was just too small. She cried apologies over and over and his ears were deaf to them. He still hurt.

The universe sent him a vendor. He copped himself an umbrella and started to  walk off. She tried to stop him..tried to keep him by her side..tried to get under his umbrella. He walked a little too fast, she couldn’t keep up. He had made up his mind. So she stood there…in the eye of the storm…licking tear flavored rain off her lips.He was walking away with a heavy heart. She stood there with hers in pieces…regrets galore…tear choked. She had to let him walk. So she let go.

He turned over his shoulder as he walked away and  looked back at her. He mouthed “it’s my fault too”.

They both wiped tears off their cheeks and walked on as the rain slowly let up.

Slowly.

Somniloquy

i dreamt a dream

and in it his face i saw

his scent i smelled

and his touch i felt

his voice i heard

and mine i voiced

i spoke to him in a dream.

the morn it dawned

and memories had i not

i recalled neither his voice

nor touch,scent nor face

mine dream was ended

and so was fantasy

i spoke to him in a dream

mine heart ached

mine mind it raced

i wanted to see him once more

to speak to him again

hooked…smitten

i spoke to him in a dream

and since then

i look for him in every dream

pray i will see him

if only for a second

hear his voice once more

speak to him again

i spoke to him in a dream

but i wish that dream

would be realised

and i would speak to him

any time i could

face to face

this dream would no longer be

till then all i cling to

is that

i spoke to him in a dream.

if only i’d dream again

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