We should sleep until we float away.
We must leave our shadows behind.
No cares and doubts, just us. Like travelers on a quixotic quest, unsure of where we are headed, or what lurks within, our hearts would guide us, our path, stained with memories that would lead us away from the night. Are we in love or lust?
Young and wild, we are immune to pain. Our footprints trailing ignorantly, our emotions concealing this darkness.
Proud rebels, we conquered the world. We couldn’t wake up because this was our existence. As uncertainty led us, we believed that we ran away from our wrongs.
Then the good times turned sour, we knew it would tear us apart.

It’s easy to say we had it all, youth, laughter and time. With each becoming a burden, we couldn’t begin to explain.
The summery sun, the warmth, the feeling to be alive made our bones stride whimsically and forced our habits to beckon greedily.
These crispy sheets, clean with memories, masks pain, lies and delusions with tangled moments.
Moments blinded with passion that deepens our emotions, making us build empires between what we “could be” and “should be”.
The voices in our heads waiting for the perfect time to strike, hinting towards a future, somewhere in nowhere, non-existent to the mortal mind. Rendering our resistance weak, making our escape inevitable.
We dreamt of this place, tranquil without darkness and filth.

Basking in the euphoria of our love; with each red light we confronted, we danced and kissed. We made sweet love off ecstatic shots.
We came alive through our raging passions and vile fantasies. We ran through these doors which revealed the world; vast and worth exploring, enticing our bodies.
We could not object, but we were not weak, our futures dared us. Some would think we were irrational, no! We were just scared.
Scared that we would leave this world unfulfilled, the very essence of life untapped. No one sees these shadows that hover, no one understands us.
This guilt won’t consume us, our love will not falter.
Though it is twisted and keeps burning in our minds, we can’t be consumed.
It gets harder to hold on but to set ourselves free, we will forge hope from our weakness and we will hammer our dreams into reality.
We are prepared to fight for what we believe in, no longer will we doubt ourselves, we will no longer be afraid because we will find the perfect place where our hearts will forever be in sync.

Please let me touch your hair
These fingers unworthy of such magnificence
My unholy hands with blemishes unknown
Hair so perfect, it should turn my fingers pure,
So that I would feel its texture, understand its nature
Curly, Straight, Silky, soft, coarse….. hair worth a thousand stories,
Histories unknown laid beneath these holy strands
Hair that defines your identity, sets you apart from sinners,
Let me tap into that story, let me touch and feel its Allure

Please Let me love your hair
Strands and strands buried deep into your skin
Makes me wonder ‘what lies beneath, what holds it in place’?
Irrevocable stares won’t do it justice
Like fresh daisies, sweet smelling hair
My love would cherish its scent
Such beauty and wealth on your head
No wonder you brush and flip so coy.

Please let me have your hair,
Peace of mind that comes with knowing that I can own such beauty,
Us unfortunate, bald with no identity
Deficient beings, the gods have been partial
Taking the genes of perfection from us undeserving
Maybe your hair will cleanse me from all my insecurities
It should redefine my imperfect existence
If only I could make it last a little longer
I would show you what it means to love and cherish your hair forever.

She checks in. On a moving box without knowing her last stop.
He welcomes her with demanding hands – Wide open,  waiting to be blessed.
Hurriedly she scans for a comfy spot, the perfect Spot to rest her weary spine.
Engulfed with the scenery, she looks on with wide eyes, yearning for more.
Unbeknownst to her, she is someone’s treasure.. Loved and wanted back home.
She sits Still taking it all in like food to her soul, she knows not when or where to stop.
Passengers on and off, with each smile, the reassurance of a life well lived.
Heavy nods grace her feet, a subtle reminder of what is to come.
Should we cheer her on? Some ponder. No one knows who she is.
She starts to drift away, loudly but calmly like tamed waves.
No one dares to speak, no one takes notice, we can’t be our sisters keeper.
last  stop, he wakes her.. It’s time to get off
She’s been long gone… Cold to the touch.

Wole Soyinka calls it the “one-eyed box”
It captures the tiniest of emotions
It’s lens, ‘all-seeing’ like an eye over the globe
With each picture, a fleeting glimpse of expressions
Stories stuck on film, a whole lot to remember
Complex negatives – images of unending scenes brought to life
In this moment we smile; maybe too much
Problems concealed with style – click and flash
flashing lights, euphoric … some blink in agreement
That reassurance, the light in our darkness
which Lifts the fog from our shadows.
Others, eyes wide open – flash!
Like tourists, they let their senses devour the moment
trusting this ‘one eyed box’ with their deepest secrets
In this spotlight, our silhouettes - naked
Our candid lives, as bare as all  the places in our minds
we refuse to acknowledge the man behind this one-eyed box
An artist eager to retouch our imperfections.

I should let go of this emptiness
It is Parasitic. I can't explain the feeling
I've longed for forever but it seems too far
Why?
Our glass house, filled with cracks spiral-ling out of control
Tossed, tattered lay my despair
Claustrophobia - the perfect spot for my longing
The sun has stopped shinning
No one to share my frozen thoughts.
We've danced in circles - clueless
We emptied our chests but our hearts wouldn't budge
We've driven ourselves to places, we didn't pay attention
Maybe you think the taxi-man doesn't know isolation
You are so proud of your fortress
Your perfect thoughts so euphoric
the sea; our spot, perfect reflections
But my luck has gone bald, it cannot be saved
Looks picturesque, not in the grave
Trapped - thoughts feed the monsters
In shallow graves we sing the song of lonely birds
Breathless, barely awake, carefree I stutter;
I will miss you but I know what I must do.

Everywhere
is the farthest my body has ever been
Feathers soaked in tar, bodies longing to feel the world
Despite mute talks and stares
I’ve always felt powerful, in control of my explicit deeds
Naysayers, hypocrites and ‘know it all’s’ have judged
Bestowing sentences without paying attention to the facts
My dignity lies bare for the world to see
I’m lost, inadvertently in a moment of ‘trust or lust’
‘Love won’t pay the bills’ I retort
This market, filled with willing souls yearning to reach its peak
Pleasures whether fake or real keeps the pain at bay
Talented hands warm in the cold
Lips familiar but strangely conveying sensual nostalgia
Dollar bills falling: our exotic ticket to paradise
My body feels premium love here, what a shame.