Deflection

The approach.

Words embrace me, sweet and tender

What is the agenda?

Do you wish to capture me

Like a predator and render me 

Defenceless prey?

The rejection.

Look in the other direction

Or rather at your horrid, reflection.

Do not mind my deflection

It would do you well to seek affection

I do not want to play.

Reduced to Silence

Line after line
With the intricacies of our pain,
Where society went wrong
And how we're all not sane

I now understand
Why we use to talk so much
But when it came time to act
We were a scarce bunch

We shout, we scream
Our "noise" irritate deaf ears
We try to get the attention of brick walls
We fail, we are reduced to tears

Their words sting like venom
Ours crumble, falling like ash
We retreat back into hardship
And just like that, our dreams crash.

Ms. Black Widow

Silently,
She watches the specimen
Drone on and on
Buzzing up and down
Here and there
Unknowingly catching her eye

Still
Patiently waiting to devour the specimen
Tearing and shearing
Ripping and shredding
At long last her craving, satisfied.

Why Should I Stick Around?

One day I will go through with it and they will all swear that I was fine; that I was coping well. They will say they do not understand what could have gone wrong, that I had it all together and that they knew every thing about me. It was 'obviously' something new that bothered me.

But when I tried to speak to them they never listened; replying or rather interjecting before I had finished speaking. Going on and on about what troubled them without thinking to consider whether I had any problems of my own.

I think they will blame me for being closed off. They will blame me for distancing myself but why should I stick around to listen to people drone on and on about themselves after interrupting me while I was trying to speak.

Why should I stick around?

I feel extremely uninspired. I want to do the artistic things that provide me with some sort of release but I can't.

I have never experienced so much difficulty while trying to express myself. I think it is safe to say that I AM BLOCKED, mentally, spiritually and emotionally blocked.

Anybody have solutions, besides therapy, for me?

Dystopic South Africa

Luke could barely breathe, clutching onto each and every breath as if it were his last. He knew he was going to die. He felt numb, even the wall that he used as a temporary form of refuge felt like it was but a figment of his imagination. He felt as though he may as well just stand out in the open, in the middle of the street, because he knew that hiding, at this point, was futile. The heavily armed men, embellished in gleaming, jet-black armour, were closing in and there was nothing he could do. Luke watched and waited as missiles and bullets darted past him, the seemingly useless wall proving to be surprisingly effective at it’s newly acquired protective role. His ears were blocked, which only amplified his quickening breathing. He clutched his chest to stop his was panting.

 

Luke asked himself whether hiding was worthwhile or not because once he somehow escaped, what then? How would he continue with his life knowing that he had nothing? Where would he go? His whole family fled the country before the government announced that white people were to leave the county within 72 hours or they would be killed without hesitation. What home would he return to? Those who were desperate to “decolonize” the country through the forced removal of white people, took everything that he owned; they raided his home and burnt it to the ground. Luke asked himself what he had to live for because even the hope that South Africa could be a society that, within its integration, would allow all to thrive as a land of opportunities was wrenched away from him.

A New Beginning

I've resolved to start over because my blog was beginning to be sappy and profoundly depressing so although I had been writing for little over a year, I believe it was within my best interests to scrap everything.

This time, I will not delve too deeply into the innermost workings of my mind because that can be a very scary place and it opens me up to being vulnerable; I'm not comfortable with that.

I plan to use this blog to be creative and to play. This is my outlet, a place where absolutely anything is possible and we will see what the outcome of all of this will be. I think it will do me some good to escape the confines of Tygerberg through my imagination.