DIDO’s WHITE FLAG

What does a lover like me do?
I have caused so much trouble for you, lover.
I can’t begin to tell you everything.
You will rush to the Love Police and ask that I am sentenced to love death by firing squad.

But I want to go down this road.
I want to let you, my lover know that I love you.
I want you to believe that all the shit we have been through, all the times I have taken you for granted, were, well, me being stupid and silly and unworthy and hopeless, and thoughtless and all those bad things, and evil even.
The Christian sister who called me the Devil itself was very right.
I was the devil’s agent and did all that work for the devil.

No. The devil did not use me.
I am not a victim.
I did the shit myself.
Whatever that got me to do it matters not.
I accepted to do everything and so I could as well be responsible.

I am not claiming to have been angry.
I chose to be angry.
I could have controlled it.
No single person has ever died of indigestion because they swallowed their anger.
I did not try to swallow it.
And so I am the real shit in the situation.

And you believed in me.
In my goodness.
You stayed while I was being the shit no toilet can take.
You transcended all they say are human limits.
And evil me just went on and on being evil.

Till I was on the verge of the ultimate evil.
Of ending not just our relationship, but your life.
What was I thinking?
Whatever jackfruit that was in my brain is now gone.
I have said this before.
And you have believed me before.
I understand if you have no faith left.
I really do.
I know it’s crazy for me to think you can still love me.
But no bird ever lost it’s leg by aiming for the sky.

I feel there is no loss in reaching out.
I will be at peace, knowing that you know.
Even if you will un-know everything by the morning.
There is no sense in me dying with this knowledge of how I feel about you.

It is very wise of you, to avoid the mess and destruction I am capable of doing.
Not when you have gone through it anyway.
Now I begin to wonder what else is left in the world for me to do, now that I have said this?

I am unable to face my life, even if you want to try again.
I believe that I should not love you again.
However senseless.
I know it means nothing to say I won’t make your life harder if we return where we were.
Too much mess and destruction I do not deserve to try again.
Your goodness will be evil if you want us to try again.
I will go down with my shit.
And put my hands up.
And surrender.

HAHAHAHAHAHA

He told lies to his partner
She asked him why he was cheating.
And guess what?
He blamed Society.

He in fact said the Society was influencing her wrongly.
It is getting tiring.

They  ask, why are you single?
You tell them why and how and when and everything else they do not deserve to know.

And they start. Society expects you to marry. To relate.
Cowards. Too feeble to say they are the Society.

To say that they want to prove to themselves that marriage works.
And so want you in their bracket.

And they blame it on society.
Bring that Society here and we see what I will do to him.

This Society thing must even be Male.
Didn’t they turn God Male too?

Mscheeew.

HEAR HEAR

That it is my skin-color to blame.
Have you heard?

Does the skin fall in love?
Does it know about my father’s problems?

Does it remember when it was last caressed?
Why do they blame it’s love affair with the sun, when I get my zip opened to whoever cares?

Why do they blame the skin?
Does it have anything to do with my jealousy?

Poor skin.
Pure darkness.

WHERE IS THE SENSE?

Tell me. Show me.
We have been down this same road, for five years now.
Every single year, we do the same thing.
And predictable events follow.
And we end. And we start again.
Where is the sense in that.

2010. I started it all.
I left. Found new love.
She was dutiful.
We couldn’t pronounce beautiful together.
We were duty. Till you came begging. On all fours.
You were dying. I left her. I returned home.

2011. It was your turn.
He was tall to no end. Tooooo tall he could pluck a star out of the sky.
I kept my eyes on the sky. Resigned. Waiting for him to fall in love with a star.
And leave you for me. It did not happen.
You got tired of craning your neck.
And fell in my waiting dwarfed arms. Heaven fell. In our hands. And they became the world.

2012. You pulled a double.
The sun itself was in love with you. I mean, the sun. All light and heat and hotness.
I was proud to be illuminated in its shine. Life lived you two.
Stories told my loneliness tale. Anger was angry with me. Envy envied me.
Extra-ordinary love. The erasure of the self. The death of the me.
I came crawling. Into your skirts. Those brightly colored long long long pieces of cloth they can carpet a whole palace. And like the earth, we rotated around the sun. And eventually broke free. Formed our own galaxy.

2013. It was too good to be true. I tell, you. Remember the vacation in Hawaii. The chain had been broken. We had found the cure. Those silly human and natural and organic smiles? And the Afros. And the beaches. You had never been this spiritual. The houses of sand we built in notebooks, diaries, notepads, iPads, iPhones, and on hearts. Love is a truth. A lie to those who have never met it in its splendor. We were love itself. And what happened? The news. Through the power of the Holy Spirit, I had someone carry my child, that turned into flames soon enough and the guilt stayed and stayed and you could not take it, and I left and you left, and I came back and you shut the door at me, and the world laughed at us, and I cried to the world, and they laughed loudly, and you kept yourself to yourself, and shut the world out and me with the world, and the end came for me, and it also left me, and beyond the end there was nothing left, but I created the myth that I still could live, could un-die and then gbam, the miracle happened, that afternoon, when you stepped back into my phone-book with your voice and odd-numbered identity and I knew life does not end, and I knew we were headed for the stars, I knew we would be the sun, I could not be me anymore, I no longer existed and could not know you either, I needed to be something, not the holy spirit that impregnants people for me and then takes away the pregnancies by SMS … Something had to be done to recover me. To make me. To put me into existence.

2014. How can we be back to square one? To start the cycle again? C’mon. Can we be more creative? It gets boring. There is nothing below where we have sunk. There is nothing beyond the sun and the stars and our own galaxy. We have exhausted everything. Where is the fun in this? Where is the sense? Why do we have to go through this again? What is different this time? We had bits and pieces for hearts, now we have ashes. What can we do with these? Where is the sense in this? Is it in the senselessness?