I think none suits this

I hold my mug,same mug I always use,same time,same spot,the window where I'll stare and stare at the green fence perhaps,at the passers by,at the window half open always,at the thought that someone is also staring,at the kids ariving,at the kids playing then I sip my coffee, coke,ginger, rosemary, water,tea,lemon,and I make up stories about them,and I kill some and I wonder on how to read some and on how to hate some and why the other one seems off.and  then my mind wanders it travels into the pit with the smallest peak of hope, I'm sad ain't I?

My mind travels, and there you see this boy,this spoilt brat who thinks bribing is going to solve his problems,who feels good someone else being humiliated,this sadist,I see him as a psychopath yet I don't throw blames,I feel like telling him will ruin his mood and he'll enjoy the sight of my scolding, I've screamed at him, I've imagined knocking his head on the wall again and again and again , I've seem him drowned, I've seem him sleeping the forever sleep, I've seen him in a bodybag, I've seen people mourning him,yet I always pause, smiling at the thought of how the world will punish him,at the thought that one day the universe will balance up,at the thought that bullies gonna get the best part of him, at the thought that these children looking up to him won't trust him when they understand nihilism.

But I stop caring for him, maybe he thinks he's gonna have his mum for a wife,

 but I'm tired and angry at the border between the fortunate and the less fortunate,why must there be a space,but I stare at my mug saying 'that's why there's going to be more of this' I raise it up.

out here

I always wanted to be a banker when I was little, I'd say financial institution would do me great Justice since I presumed I was good with money

I also once told someone I want to be a truck driver,that I was fascinated with big cars,that it was going to be fun to be a woman on the road but I got discouraged that I'll never get enough sleep that the truck drivers abuse drugs

I also once said I want to be a plumber, perhaps because I wasn't sure what the name meant,when I understood it I saw it better to fix pipes,to work with machinery,it was another task that women couldn't do,I also got discouraged that I'll be unblocking dirty sewages that it wasn't hygienic

Now I studied a course that I can work in the financial institution,three years down the line, I'm unemployed, I can't even find an unpaid internship, I use drugs, half the amenities I've been to in my lifetime have appliances that need to be fixed

This morning on the road,I see being a truck driver wasn't bad after all, atleast trucks don't give me nausea,I see that being a plumber wasn't bad after all, atleast I could be employed somewhere, I see that how many people make bad choices based on the advices they're given, I see alot

Like

So I like this girl 

Like how a hangover makes you feel like, she's that headache that pounds, she's that aftertaste of when she tasted like dying and going to heaven, she's the mood that keeps you zoned out,there universe is inexistent, she's the lazy soul,you only feel like sitting there and staring at the void,her.

 I like her like how nausea makes you dislike the decision you made, like how your mind wanders wondering,what if I misbehaved last night,like how you miss the fun though it's aftermath is skinning you,like how you sit there waiting to reduce the toxins, I like her like how you'll sleep on the floor letting the cold consume your thoughts.

  I like her like how the hangover comes to an end,you see she was there,when I was mid sober but she'll be gone eventually, I like her like how she was the pain,she was the ache, you see I like her like how you hate hangovers,I like her like how she's not in my mind when am taking my first shot,then the next then the next, I like this girl,I like her like I loathe her.

Blood

My brother

My brother praised the devil in me while everyone else shunned it

You see,my brother saw my darkness while everyone else ignored it

He would rub the poison on my cheeks while everyone else blew it off, he spoke to the monster in me and made a pact, we now inseparable.

My brother isn't someone who'll protect me from a fight, he will join my advesary, pin me down and laugh hysterically at my failure, my brother isn't someone who listens to my opinion, he'll add facts and facts, eventually I'll have to concur with him else I'll be pissed off, my brothers no my brother neglected my existence.

My brother showed his affection to me 😂 no he used to resent me, he only did good making sure I'll repay the favor,he taught me that nothing comes in cheap,he was my everything,he still is 

You see my brother shares all my secrets, he'll fight me when I mess up and loathe at my clown, he wipes my pain and grins before I go back, my brother's and I have a wide imagination he uses my weakness to shut me out, my brother is one in two, my brother sits in a throne, I am his power.

Doom

If I take much of it,

I'll be afraid, I'll opt to stop and perhaps I'll feel like I'll never be able to be sober or alive again.

But hold on;

Before I took it.

It felt so cold, so overwhelming, so painful, so depressing, so devastating, I'm even suicidal when sober, I'm super scared when sober and when they say I abuse drugs, I wonder how lone they want me to be.

.

I can't sleep

The genuine rest I have is after taking a pill

I can't be happy

The genuine laugh I have is after smoking pot

I'm not honest

The truth come out only when I'm in pain

I'm never clear,

The confidence comes out when I'm high

I'm always in the closet

The clear image of me is after you've seen me broken

I hide alot

I let out especially in pain in shame in regret

I like the thought of being left alone after everyone's dead but it dawn's to me that I'll die before them.

So when I take a little just to sleep or laugh or be sane or say what's been nagging me, let me have my closure in peace. 

Poetry

Weird

Encounter weird that felt like I was his sucking balls yet his cock was already hard, so weird that I missed my steps some fucking times till I was hopping,I tripped nigga, conversation so weird the problem wasn't clear and still it felt wrong that I stood there eager to leave yet I was supposed to stay, could have been a romantic moment awaited in ages,a phase so weird yet it wasn't ending.

She may be someone or something unique ,so weird yet dark in brighter way, she's someone I don't know yet I have alot to tell about her, she's not around but always there, she's a foe to people who know nothing about her, she can be sang, she can be rapped, she's an awesome psycho, she's a consoler and listener to some, she's an escape route yet the pain giver when meditated on, she praises even the darkest minds, she's the source of the  voice,the urge to scream out and say it loud what can only be heard in silence,

She's an instrument that brings about peace, she's diversified and perhaps something that comes from the heart, she's poetic she's poetry, the home of houses lived and unloved.

Happy world poetry day.

In memory of her

''Why don't you cry at funerals?''

My best friend asked while clearing her nostrils, she might have caught a cold I bet from mourning the dead, she looked sad, confused that God was unfair yet still his consoler, she looked miserable and I always found this funny, I don't know how many times I held my laugh awaiting the end of the burial.

I don't cry, 

I cried at 3 am when she had her life together yet I was breaking lose,I cried at 3 am imagining how death would hurt though now it doesn't, I cried at her coldness towards me yet she was at ease, I cried at her praises her jubilation her progress, I cried at how she had everything figured out.

I don't cry since she didn't have everything figured out liked she seemed, I don't cry because of her foolishness her pettiness her spite towards me, her irritable nature around me, I don't cry since I'm sad am mad that she chose her own death, I don't cry because I can't cry at her speck of her left, she's not here anymore.

Fuck! Why don't I cry at funerals?