Love in the Age of ADHD

This was supposed to be a song about you, like all other songs, seeing as you’re my muse.

(Why are you my muse?)

I had it all planned out: short punchy lines leading up to the doors of your heart.

(Why do I want your heart? I’m not even that fond of red meat. Last night’s chicken pizza was delectable. I enjoy cold pizza.)

My heart (and other parts) nary rests for longings of you (oh, longings).

(Why am I pining for you again? I don’t even think I want you any more.)

Memories of our firsts keep me grinning: our first ice cream, our first coffee date….., me thinking I’m the s**t for paying the bill, you letting me have that moment of ego gratification, because, come on, Miss Independent-Nini-Nini, kwani kahawa kwako ni nini?

(I should’ve bought that Junot Diaz book instead. I’ll do that this time. Ice cream and coffee be damned!)

Your lips still beckon freshly, newly, red red pleasure, sweet sweet release.

(Did I carry my lip balm? Those salted peanuts turned my lips ashen.)

I want to bury myself in your pain, as I want you to bury yourself in me.

(Which reminds me, I need to get that Mario Puzo novel that took a swim repaired. I knew I should’ve placed it on my desk last night before I turned in.)

I almost said your name out loud, for the want of sheer ecstasy. If pronouncing your name was similar to chewing cactus, I would, gladly. There is no pain with you.

(Chewing?……. Chewing. Ah, ABZ tablet! Slipped my mind for a few months, there.)

You probably don’t even read these wramblings. You’re too busy being awesome, and ain’t nobody got time….. I wish you did, though, like you do for one of those fellas, and I admit, I do get jealous of those fellas.

(wramblings…..written ramblings. Go ahead, you can use it. Wait, did i just use ‘fellas’? And no angry red underlining?! Come on, Spellcheck!! (Oh, now you underline, yourself at that!))

This was supposed to be a song about you.

(Because….. Because….. Oh, tea time!)

Karma Runs Out of Patience

You hear it with ears deaf,

Feel it with your unfeeling,

The silences that weigh like ghosts on gossamer.

Fog that does not lift but only becomes colorless,

Those fine scratches on your back

by invisible tender fingers: claws.

A whisper of pain and pain to come.

You’ve danced with danger for far too long,

Tempted the gods with your impudence,

Your cynicism know no bounds and love is a game to you.

They have listened, tolerated you

Once too many times,

One heartbreak too many,

One drop too many,

the tears born of your selfishness.

Enough.

Karma has ran out of patience.

Omnia

Her fragrance was Omnia.

For an instance in time she engulfed me in its essence, her essence.
And I, like many men before me, faltered…but only just so.
Days of hope and heartbreak culminated in one moment of resistance,
the ultimate stand,
that I be the seducer and she the tempted one.
At the edge, we danced, of fate, of life, of bliss and torture.
She side-stepped, I pirouetted, dizzy with the fantasies of youth and adulthood but caressed lightly.
The night wore on, and so did we, languidly teasing each other, a sparring of hearts and wits.
Was it fear, or favour or what lesser men call common sense, that she whispered herself away into the cold night,
leaving me with memories of longing and ponderings of time: past, present and future?
Alas, as ’tis said, ’twas not but to be, that this perfect stranger, rakish and unsated, took flight on wings of sobriety,
forgetting me in the twilight of our shared sins.
My heart now belts a steady nocturne, soulful and sombre, yet exhilirated at the
taste of heaven seduced,
the taste of hell’s pleasures on my tongue.
She smelled beautiful.
She smelled like the promise of sex: feral and desperate,
yet barely contained.
A promise that was never made and somehow still broken.
Surrounded by a halo of electricity,
we were attracted to her danger: suicidal moths.
I spent an eternity with her in one night,
the one chosen from many…… Or was I?
Her kisses were dry and her skin cold.
Her smiles seemed empty, practiced and plastic.
Warmth I only found in whole women.
She was a trophy.
My pride was short-lived, a reflection of our shared insanity.
Yet, was she less because I could not claim her, conquer her?
Was she no more a woman, a lover, a friend,
because my pride was thwarted?
Much like the annoying moth?
In my weak moments, I wonder, what could have been?
What would have come out of a sinful union?
Green eyes watched us, as we danced and laughed
and made a mockery of friendship.
I lit that green fire and basked in its glow,
its radiance massaging this fragile heart.
 
Her fragrance was Omnia.
And, in a twist of longing and fate, 
I seduced the green fire and turned it red.
Is this what it is to be a man,
to hold and to hurt and to promise to hold again yet only hurt again?
In the cold of early morning, my demons took flight,
Leaving me scarred and scared.
I saw my self for what I was: crooked and conceited.
This lust is a tantrum,
A mortal’s obsession with the one considered angelic.
And angels are but demons and demons angels.
The dust cleanses with its settling and reality burns away the fantasies.
Yet, here I remain, watching, waiting for her return.
(First appeared: http://goo.gl/szB5L6)

Too Close

Too close to you that you’ve blinded me.

(I have blinded myself to you. I only want to see you.)

I cannot see your cracks and creases.

(I do not want to see you naked, shamed. I revel in my illusions of you.)

Yet, even in my basking in hell’s fire,

(Even walking naked through the hailstorm that is wanting you,)

I’m not close enough.

(I persist in this charade.)

A Different Kind of Pain

……is what I want,

Sharper, more piercing,

Meaningful, soulful.

A better struggle,

The beautiful throb of a heart resonating

With the eternal energy of the universe.

To dream when I’m asleep,

For not want of rest,

To eat when hunger strikes,

For not want of anything,

To not want.

Why want when dreams are no longer dreams?

Not the agony of your silence,

But your bite on my neck,

Your finger nails clawing my bare back,

The darkness of your ecstasy.

Your anger ringing in my ear,

The shrillness of your irritation,

That I do not love you like you love me:

With everything.

Your sweet nothings are nothing.

I want your sweet everything,

I struggle to stay awake as the world drones on,

Why can’t I struggle to sleep,

Abuzz, live wired,

Pseudo-coked up and keyed,

Life’s junkie?

A Creeping to Death

Though you kill me slowly.

I don’t know how not to

Live without this pain.

You are my muse and my misery,

And I’m never happier than when you mock me,

Choke me, your sardonic smile is the last I’d like to see

As I slip into the darkness.