here, Foreign


Where I come from, you do not say your deepest wants for fear of who is passing.

Everything is a completion. you have troubles, I know still, They are not bigger than mine. You are the happiest human alive, you must learn to wear this camouflage till you have enough privacy to nourish your truth; sadness.

You mustn’t be sad too long either, it is impossible to have your depressions kill you, there are demons in your fathers house already nailing your coffins. Gather your strength, you must bury them all. Death by fire and holy water.

You can wear your happiness but do not parade it too long. Truly, do not parade it at all, you have no such rights. Tell your good news only to your lover at home. Actually, do not tell him, the gods from his village  maybe listening. They may grown resistant to the fire that burnt your family’s juju.

You must lock your flight details in your minds safe. A million times it has been said, tell not a single soul. You must trust no one, your mother has echoed it enough, the world is dangerous.

Where I come from, you have not lived until you have danced the dance of suffering. you are only half alive if you have life easy.                                                                                            Where I come from, you can not have life easy, who is your daddy?                                          we will take good things but only in  bouts, The lights must come on but not for too long. Nothing very constant or fear sets tents in your hearts.

Still, where I come from, resilience is abundant. We love from our souls and feed our love to you. Sharing is second nature. Everybody’s spice comes together and dinner is served. Your neighbour is always your sister until branded enemy by the preacher man.

Sitting in winters hold, home calls me, the hustling and bustling of the markets, comradeship, Saturday morning, the aroma of your neighbour’s oil and purple onions..

here, no mans land.


The gag.



My ex lover said I was selfish still, he only put himself first, second and fourth too. I could come in third but 3 is a crowd he told me once. My lover told me he had never felt the depth of attraction he felt for me. when we met, he said he was drawn to broken people. I spoke of this tale to my friends but they asked that I be more open minded, they suffocate me with their analogies but they are My small circle, a closed group.

My therapist told me he had no one to talk to about his troubles. I was in search of clarity and windows to openness so I listened. He said his daughter died from a tumour in her brain. she was a neurosurgeon. I found this hilarious so I laughed, this is how I was diagnosed with misplaced emotions.

I talk too much, I share very little.The sessions did me no good so I went to my priest. He taught me of God, his unconditional love and how he hates me for all my iniquities.  My troubles came as consequences of my sins he said. My soul was dead and satans minions had chained me to hells graves. Fortunately, there was hope for me he said. If  I walked the walls of  repentance, Graced his sheets quietly enough and stood in my truth. I had never met a more gracious fibster.

I decided, I would get rid of my troubles alone so I searched google for all the ways to set my old soul on fire. I got 27,310 matches. I realized then I wasn’t gassed enough to start a fire. I have left that fit for the arsenics.


none of this has brought me clarity or pulled the lid my mind has been said to have however, I’m off to have a chit-chat with my closed friends.

I know, this wasn’t funny.




giphy (5)

Make of this what you will.

I am grown and tired.

The chase, the guess ,inane games.

I will reiterate, please listen.

I’m too grown for this , lost my auction at assumptions gates, the will to stand shifty tides, sort through mixed signals and read between ill, faintly crafted lines. The world is moving and I must scurry along with it.

I have no room for guesses or tic tac toes on where you stand.

are you here or there?’,

this is no lovers brawl, no tug of war either. I have given enough self, I must preserve what is left for me. Regrettably, I have left too much space for your frivolities, and wished for too long that you abandon juvenile manners. Time has taught me to careless for drifty ways.

I will not read minds, poetry awaits.

I will not chase, I have given up feline ways.

I will not plead for intentionality or open honesty.

I will not bleed for trust, still, I’ll stay worthy of it.

I will not push for transparency or leap out of comfort zones to comprehend the unsteadiness of your tides.

I will not intently open my souls doors for you, still I shall not close them. I refuse to present you with the chance to betray my efforts. Again.

I will not wait to catch hints and pick up crumbs of real intent. I simply do not have the time. Frankly, I care not for wavering allies.

Come if you will, stay if wish, go if you please.

whatever you please, be intentional.



Everything but nothing.

Grey is the blandest colour. It doesn’t scream but isn’t drowsy either. it swings on a fence just enough to not be completely ignored. how meh, It is the blandest feeling too. Nothing  is wrong but nothings right either.

Some days, dawn comes with its party, other days it drags melancholy with it. You feel peace but you don’t quite taste happiness still, far from sadness.

My tongue doesn’t know me sometimes, other times it amazes me. how can one have everything but nothing? be so much but so little? how does one be sunlight and still carry this much gloom. Its not sadness, just gloom.

Many, many friends but still no one. Be so loved but easily discarded. usefully useless, accommodated but not accepted. alone but surrounded.


what is it when you feel everything but nothing?

not enough sadness to be pitied not enough happy to be noticed

oh so tastefully bland. grey.



wolf and woman.

shape shifter.

There are a few things I find completely amazing.  ‘woman’ is somewhere after God and before medicine. Really, think about it. have you see anything more astounding?

Youjin Lee 이유진:

I am out  having lunch with a friend who is the epitome of a strong, independent and easily intimidating if  your man guts aren’t firmly rooted. somewhere between her oven knuckles and our almost heated debate her man friend calls. My girl goes from fire breathing to vanilla voice and wind soft. I am perplexed. I realize then that this is power gifted to us by Phanes. The  ability to change swiftly,go from fire to ice in a second. Get an attitude for a lover but bend voice, distort body, speak honey before favours are asked. Brew his Ego, butter him up, feed him mirages of power then ask what it is and receive graciously mother told me once,you must learn the art of shape shifting.

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There are brands of magic not all can experience. the art of child birth. Although it is a mans world, this one power they will never have, a brand of intimacy the male specie will never  afford. I imagine it to be a pretty bitter,sweet and scary experience. of scary things I do not write.

Jacqueline Bissett is an illustrator, expertized in Hand drawn and book illustrations:


Hellen of troy, the face that launched a thousand ships. 

Countries will go to war, brothers turn foes, years of friendship crumble at her feet, man loses his will, his wit, man dines with sheep. My good friend once entertained thoughts of leaving his job cos his lover fancied men of a different profession. I couldn’t fathom this for days,Some men have left wives, neglected kids and morals for  mistresses who have mastered the art of finesse. still, its a mans world they say, a moment of laughter, now silence. There is great make believe at work.  The art of finesse.


I have learnt, there are things one simply doesn’t get in the way of. A woman deep in love, a woman scorned, a woman with a mission, A mother fighting for her kids. A wolf watches, learns from her. similarities.


                                                   some days,

                                      I am more wolf than woman.

                      I am still learning to stop apologising for my wild   ~Nikita Gill.     



Overlook The City.:

I have always thought, it would be nice to live by the sea. To be sent to bed by the peaceful bustling of beach waves. Something about peace, serenity and its beauty makes me humbled.

I have dreamt of weaving through a city with bright night lights, to be wakened by croissants and butter dancing in its air at dawn. something about baking and pastries makes me think of goodness and tranquil dust.

snippets of a life that’s not mine.


what do you think of?







I like the word random, how it doesn’t refer to anything in particular , just something random, like thoughts and random posts. how random. There is nothing particular about this post.

I wonder sometimes if the sun  tires from shining or if the moon kisses the stars wrongly some days so they get mad at each other and have a brawl over who comes out that night.

I wonder if God ever tires of  being God, cos truly watching us wallow in our cycle of sins  must get painfully exhausting. I also have questions about God, life and heaven but I think voicing them would be blasphemy so I never ask.

I wonder why humans suffer, why peace never comes and evil seems to be on an all time best roll.

I think of how ironic it is that best friends make the best enemies .If love is the greatest gift, how is it never enough sometimes? Nothing is ever sure. Today you could be served on a Gold platter but tomorrow you’ll be serving.

I think of mothers that never see their kids grow, children that never get to have parents, people who never feel love and how much hate we have in the world. Being mean is the new cool. using another seems to be the order of the day. caring too much is the fastest way to die young, being nice is a good way to build yourself a coffin.

Here we are millennials, grown babies,living fast. How is it that the wokest of all generations seems to be the most lonely? the darnest things hit the news everyday and for a second, just a second fear for the future grips me. In these moments, I seat down and I’m  be humbled by how drastic change can be. how a second can be the difference between life and death. how a post, a like, a tweet, a new slang can trigger a whole generation.

I think about time, how precious it is, how easy it is to waste, how vexing it is when another wastes yours. I think about the complexity of emotions, anger, sadness, happiness. how do we feel them? what exactly do we feel? learned behaviour?. I think about time again and how its 3:45am now, I should be asleep, but as a millennial you already know insomnia is only for cool kids.

I think about how random these thoughts are, how I might never get answers .wanderers mind.

3am rituals.








There is nothing romantic about suffering.


I am constantly torn between ‘all or nothing’ and  ‘half a loaf beats none’. Why cant I have a whole loaf? what good is half when it only angers my hunger? why must I be okay with half baked everythings, love, food,sucess, happiness? cant one have it all? demand it even.

Sometimes I am convinced,we are so used to pain we don’t want anything else. Cant expect anything else.

I have gotten into feuds and blood roiling  arguments with good friends cos I cant understand why they must stay with a lover that hands them half baked love. They are visibly trying more, want more and are sometimes constantly telling tales of their lovers disregard or laxity towards them. soon as I  suggest they demand more or walk away , I become Dj khaled’s “they” or they conclude that I do not understand cos I am single or have never really been in love. This is usually where lines are drawn as emotions are skipping dangerously, words are geared to hurt and to be very honest, I am tired of them being tired of their lovers not giving enough.

I have also often wondered do they not love themselves enough?. I know they deserve better, do they not know the same?. Is everybody so scared of being alone that we would all take passive lovers, past memory  partners (i.e, he is nice. One time he got me ice cream) great, guess you only needed  ice cream once. (they text you after months and you throw a party) . If this is what being in love entails I should be glad I’m out of it.


Then, dare you decide or refuse to  participate in this suffering. LMAO.

you must think you’re special.

I say I don’t understand why a man who claims to love me can’t be consistent, be nice to me, text me regularly, make an effort, they say I am high maintenance or living in fairy tales. well I am sorry I think a lover should at least  have basic human characteristics.

And who am I to have dreams bigger than me. loool. They say you are dreaming, these things don’t happen this way, life doesn’t work that way, you can dream but it may not come true.

On  marriage and other stressful things:

I think I need a brand new post for this.

Have you tried asking  people why they get into unhappy marriages, become worse versions of themselves everyday and still don’t walk away from such toxicity?. Something about pain and stress just makes us want to stay, brings out our resilience…


Pain is addictive I have realised…


There is so much I feel we become comfortable with just cos having one is better than none…Our jobs, evil bosses, friendships, you name it. how ever I feel love, dreams and marriage are some we just are so annoyingly happy to endure…

Young, Unreal, delusional, hilarious are some of the tags I have been giving cos of these questions . Maybe I am all those things, Ill rather be those than unhappy, suffering or romanticising pain.

but what do I know?488378140










Today I thought about flowers, how delicate they are, how beautiful but how so easily they destruct. Beautiful things are the most fragile I have realized.

we were beautiful.

At least I thought we were. The roots we planted with time bloomed into something so jealously beautiful.Too many secrets shared to be just friends but not enough courage to be lovers. “frovers” . Guess that’s the thing about sitting on  fences and gray lines, nothing really is clear.

One phone call too many, one joke too many, one 3am conversation too many. I say “I’m sad” and you listen, “if  you’re sad I’m sad and that’s bad for me” you’ll say.  Next you crack dry jokes till I get mad and you say “mad is always better than sad”cos you know I cant stay mad long so I’ll be fine soon. cheesy acts. One too many.

Days after we fight about nothing, you say you’re sorry and you missed me. I’m sorry  too but my pride is broken, I missed you too but we don’t do sentimental stuff so I reply with something goofy like ‘I know’, ‘I cant live without me either’. you chuckle and I can  hear the disappointment in your voice. like maybe this once you wish I would reply different. I wish I would too. sometimes I almost do, My mouth opens and goofiness gets the best of me. fear maybe?. I do not know what it is I am afraid of but I know I should be. I am .you ask about my day, what I ate and how I have much happened in the past days so I hurry to fill you in . I Tell you about my mean  professor and my patient from days ago And the new guy I think I may like. God! I have missed you.

Our friends say we should be lovers, get married, we laugh it off. But that’s the hitch with laughing too much, your tummy starts to hurt and next your heart starts to hurt too. They say rumour spreads fast, pain spreads faster. I say I don’t like your new girl friend the older one laughed better. you say the guy I like should treat me better , I deserve better. No we are  not jealous just looking out for each other. That’s what we always do.

That’s what we used to do. things change , people change, feelings change.

I thought about you  today, I had a bad day and you’re the only one I wanted to call. I felt sad today and wondered if that would still make you sad. would it still be bad for you?

I thought about you today, I wanted to tell you I was sorry and I miss you. Its been months since we last spoke,you no longer pick your calls. I got the message, I no longer try.

I thought about you today and felt my heart half break. Instagram and our friends say life’s been good with you.

That’s the problem with ‘frovers‘, you loose a friend and an almost lover. your heart breaks twice and neither breaks even.

Beautiful things are fragile they say.

I miss you.







Heart wants love…sometimes

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  Its not always sunshine and rainbows. Some days its hard.This life,being single. Baeless. Some nights solitude cant quite drive the cold away or the need to talk to someone. And Independence couldn’t beat being taken care of or cuddled.Being alone is hard sometimes, they dont tell you this.

       Some days the heart wants more than just food and space.It wants to love, be loved, be mushy and feel this things too.On these days I almost envy them.In relationships.I want to get mad or be angry at another too.just for the fun of it maybe I dont really know.Other days when I see how much work and energy they put into it I am not quite so jealous.

I wonder often, what it must mean to be in this things. Are they the first people you want to talk to when you rise at dawn? or the last  you think of when your bones are tired from the days work?.I thought we had family for that.

     Well, then I have been told there is the sex.Its constant, always available. You dont have to worry on days when the hormones are racing. But arent there lots in celibate relationships? or why cant we just be f***buddies then? *excuse my french* :).I mean really? is it worth all the stress,heart, head and even body aches.?some get pregnant,have their life changed forever, good friendships get squashed and deep horrific scars are left all in the name of “bae”. On weak days when I think of all of this I am good. like “nah”… no worries Ill stay loyal to singletons club.

Then the worse happens.When one grows tired. sparks no longer fly and all the butterflies in your tummy die with each kiss,both become irritants to each other, still, none is brave enough to state the obvious.Break it off. And if this emotional death is one sided,you put nails to the others coffin when you finally find the courage to be free.leaving them to bury their feelings.And lick their wounds from the hurt closure couldn’t quite heal.

However,on days like this where “SINGLE” is an overridden boat and loneliness is deep in my veins,I almost dont mind. Ill grumpily  lend my time to be wasted,lend forgiveness and let a fellow invade my space without over-analysis or panic attacks.Ill fall in love while hoping I land on soft pillows with strength enough to pick myself up when pillow feathers become thorns.